


Uneasy Lies the Head

by xXKrimsonRoseXx



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Drama, F/M, Familiars, Family, Flowers, Language of Flowers, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Violence, it's not successful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXKrimsonRoseXx/pseuds/xXKrimsonRoseXx
Summary: “Why me? Every witch in the world and you picked me. Why?” Her voice trembled as hot fingers trailed along her shoulders.“Beauty, power, loyalty. My dear, you’re the whole package.” His voice was like an ivy vine coiling around her, beautiful and encompassing. She still rolled her eyes at his words.“You could easily find that in any witch across the globe. If you’ve truly watched me as long as you have then you’d know flattery gets you nowhere.” His hand brushed back the hair along the nape of her neck. His scorching lips gently placed themselves along the exposed skin. She felt the grin stretch along her skin.“Careful dove, you’d think you were trying to be rid of me.” She heaved out a sigh; whether it was of irritation or contentment was yet to be seen.“I’m serious. Why me?” Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers continued to dance along her skin.“There will be answers in due time. Trust in me.” The Father of Lies breathed into her ear. And as all signs pointed at her to not trust this creature that was renowned for his subterfuge; she could feel it inside of her that for once, he was being truthful. So she relaxed back into his hold and hummed her ascent.
Relationships: The Dark Lord | Satan (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Original Female Character(s), The Dark Lord | Satan (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 163





	1. Foxglove and Mint

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids! So this is my first time dipping my toe into this fandom. On top of that it's been years since I've actually published anything. So please go easy on me! I finally caught up to date on Sabrina and absolutely fell in love with Cook's Lucifer. Anyways, thanks for reading and let me know what you think. Plus this is still a WIP so if you have any suggestions please feel free to comment. I have a basic idea where I want this to go but it can always change. Needless to say this is definitely going to be an AU! It'll follow the current storyline until S2E9. After that we're going off track and forging our own way!

Traveling had never been Samara’s favourite activity. Well, that’s not entirely true. Samara loved to experience different cultures and sights, however the long distance teleportation was always bothersome. The disorientation mixed with the power drain always made for a rough landing. So needless to say, Samara avoided long distance travel like the plague. This time though, avoidance was impossible.

Samara loved her Aunties, more than anything. Aunt Hilda was like the mom she never had; always there with a warm hug and sweets. She gave the best advice on matters of the heart. While Aunt Zelda was much the opposite. Aunt Zelda was the one Samara went to for quick, cold-hearted solutions to problems she was having. Aunt Hilda was the heart of the relationship while Aunt Zelda was the head. Both strong women had helped shape Samara into the young woman she was today.

So when Auntie Z had invited her to her wedding during their weekly mirror scrying, Samara had been quick to agree. Rarely had she ever seen her severe Auntie, glowing with happiness and pride. It made Samara warm with joy to see her Aunt Zelda so content. However, that warm feeling soon drained with dread at hearing the name of who her Auntie was marrying.

Faustus Blackwood was a worm of a man; at least in the eyes of Samara Spellman. With ridiculously misogynistic ideals and bullheaded to boot, he was the reason Samara had fled the Greendale witch community. Her Auntie Z, however, held the High Priest on a pedestal in her mind. In an abstract way Samara understood why Aunt Zelda would be proud to marry Faustus. The honor of marrying a High Priest on top of the power he held, would be attractive to any smart witch. His deplorable behaviour was enough to outweigh any positives there might have been by marrying the slug; in Samara’s opinion at least. Her Auntie Z, obviously, held a much different opinion. 

Knowing of the disdain Samara held for Faustus Blackwood, Zelda made her promise to be on her best behaviour and to not ruin this important event. The love and respect Samara held for her Aunt far outweighed the disgust she held for the High Priest; so Samara agreed to her Aunt’s request. Thus began the wedding preparations and planning. Samara was to arrive the day before the wedding and would be staying in the Spellman house with her cousins Ambrose and Sabrina. Aunties Z and Hilda would be staying at the Academy of Unseen Arts that night.

Which brought Samara to her current standpoint. A travel bag rested in the crook of her elbow while her familiar, Phlox, leaned against her calf. The red fox had become used to teleportation with his witch and assumed his usual position. Samara offered a small smile down to her familiar and adjusted the lapels of her long dark grey travelling coat. She ran through a mental checklist to make sure she had everything she would need and that everything in her tiny home was safe to stay. The fresh foxglove and mint hanging in the kitchen would hopefully be dried by the time she returned home. She had ideas for enhancing some potions that she wanted to try. For instance perhaps the use of mint would help mask the sickly sweet flavour in all sleep potions. Maybe dried foxglove was more potent in those sleep potions after it had a chance to dry and get all the unnecessary moisture out.

Samara shook her head as her thoughts tried to run from her. She was avoiding teleporting. 

“Say goodbye to Vail, Phlox. We’ll be back soon.  _ Lanucae magicae _ ,” As soon as the words left her lips, the world around them blurred and they were specs coursing through time and space. Teleporting felt simultaneously like the weightlessness of falling from a height and being shoved inside a tube that was 4 sizes too small; and the further the teleportation was, the stronger that feeling became. Altogether it was a very disorienting and unpleasant experience. Which was Samara’s excuse when she landed on her knees in the Spellman’s living room. The first sounds she heard were her Auntie Hilda’s squeal of excitement and her Auntie Z’s scoff of irritation.

“Honestly Samara. You’ve been teleporting since you were 16 and you still can’t land standing? What are you learning in Colorado?” Auntie Z’s voice was full of exasperation and fondness.

“Oh never you mind your Auntie Z. My darling Samara! My gorgeous girl! Look at you! All grown up! Oh my, you look famished! Come come, let’s get some yummies into you.” Aunt Hilda grasped her hand and coaxed her to the dining table. Zelda followed close behind. Before Samara sat, she encased her taller Aunt in a tight hug.

“I know I’ve already congratulated you on your upcoming nuptials but still, I’m happy you’re happy Auntie Z,” Samara’s grin was wide as she looked up at her stiff Aunt. Affection had never come easily from her Aunt Zelda. It was always a hard earned reward. Once Samara had grown older, she found it amusing to initiate gentle affections with her cold aunt and watch the woman grow uncomfortable at the suddenness. 

Samara had taken after her Aunt Hilda in many ways. Many of those being her ease with comfort and affection. Samara was always quick with a warm hug and soft words. She also took up after her Aunt in ways of cooking and potion making. Her Aunt Zelda had passed along her rational mind and Samara was ever thankful. It would’ve been too easy to let her caring nature rule her life if it wouldn’t have been for the sensible thinking that Zelda had drilled into her from a painfully young age. So Samara was able to keep her soft heart available for those who needed it most and not every bleeding thing she saw. Her family, though, would always be ones that she held near and dear to her heart.

“Yes, yes. The Spellman name will once again hold greatness and honour. The Anti-Pope himself is blessing us at our wedding. Isn’t that just marvelous?” Zelda’s head was held high as she spoke and expertly extricated herself from Samara’s hold. The young witch internally rolled her eyes. As far as the witching community cared the Spellman name was not in turmoil or despair. However in her Auntie Z’s eyes, with her cousin Sabrina’s recent antics, their name was. 

Samara had been kept abreast of any and all activities and schemes her dear cousin was up to. Between refusing to sign the Book of the Beast, her antics at the Academy and her troubles with her mortal friends, the rest of their small family was in quite the tizzy. Samara couldn’t blame the young witch though. 

She remembered her own hesitancies when she had to sign the Book. Much like her cousin she didn’t want to lose her freedom and choice. But at her Aunts’ insistences she had reluctantly ambled to her Dark Baptism. She could recall the night beginning bitterly cold. Her black lace dress had brushed the sides of her thighs as her bare feet crunched the dead leaves beneath her feet. The forest was abysmally dark besides the glowing in the grove she was headed. The arch of branches had lit and waited to deem her worthy of entering. Samara could remember the prey fear she felt tightening her spine and settling like a stone in her belly; the anxiety that constricted her chest and made her mind tingle. She had stopped before the branches, her eyes wide as they consumed they blue hellfire scared that she’d be deemed unworthy and burned for her troubles. Her thoughts had left her and all that’d remained was worry and fear. She’d been ready to turn and run. Run from the Coven and their expectations. Just as her foot had begun to step back, she’d frozen. In what seemed like a heartbeat, her anxiety and worry disappeared. In their place sat warmth and reassurance; like an ivy vine curling around her body. She could breathe. Where once she worried about her loss of self as a person, there was something there assuring her that she’d be safe, always. It had been enough to straighten her spine and walk through the hellfire that caressed her skin like feathers. She had stood beside her Aunties, two beautiful pillars of strength that they were. She had looked upon Father Blackwood, her mind screaming  _ wrong, bad, stay away _ as the man approached her. She knew it wasn’t to do with the Dark Baptism but rather the man itself. Her shoulders had tensed as he drew a sigil on her forehead. Her teeth had clenched as he drew the blade across her palm. She had ignored his curious gaze as the wound healed near instantly once the blood had dropped onto the Book. Just as she had picked up the quill and readied it to sign her name, she felt it. The lightest caress at the junction where her shoulder met her neck. Knowing it was something otherworldly since Blackwood stood across from her. Samara had taken comfort in it and assumed it was what gave her strength to enter the clearing. With that renewed strength, she signed her name with a flourish. Intense joy and contentment has filled her as the sky ricocheted with bright lightning. In that moment, she had never felt more at home.

Her reminiscing was brought to a halt as her Aunt Z drew her attention once more.

“As glad as I am to see you Samara, I must head back to the Academy and prepare for tomorrow. I will see you then.” Her Aunt had nodded and away she went. Samara watched her walk away with fondness; able to see the nerves beneath her aunt’s skin.

“She really is happy to have you home, Samara. We all are.” Aunt Hilda placed a little cup of tea on a saucer with sweets. Samara happily nibbled on her Aunt’s offerings. She missed her Aunt’s cooking and baking the most when she originally left.

“I’m happy to be back Aunt Hilda. I’ve missed all of you so much.” Samara had looked up at her Aunt to show the earnestness she felt. Hilda was quick to smile and squeeze her hand at her seat beside her. Her smile turned slightly pleading.

“Perhaps, what with Zelda marrying the High Priest, you might be convinced to join us again. I’m sure there’s loads of things you could teach Sabrina. And we would be overjoyed if you’d stay!” Aunt Hilda squeezed her hand again, rubbing her thumb back and forth over Samara’s hand. Samara had chuckled and looked away.

“I think it’s for the best that I stay in Colorado. As much as I miss and want to stay with you guys, I couldn’t become a part of the Church of Night here. Besides, I’ve made a home for myself in Vail. The Coven there and the townspeople wouldn’t know what to do without my herbs and brews. On another note, even with Auntie Z marrying Blackwood, I doubt I could stay in the same room as him for long.” Samara’s tone had taken on a darker quality. Phlox had quickly come to Samara’s side as her mood started to shift. He was quick to rub along her legs and nip the cookie from her fingers. Succeeding in lifting her mood, he settled down with her snack as Samara laughed and lightly scolded him.

“I figured it was worth a try. No matter, luv. How do you feel helping me get rid of a problem for Zelds?” Hilda was pleased at the mischievous smile her niece shot at her.

“Anything for you guys. What’s the plan?”

“Well first, we’re going to have to visit the potion pantry, then we’re going to bake some biscuits.” Samara’s mind was quick to shoot off possibilities her Aunt was meaning. She had always loved helping her Aunt cook and bake. It was what got her so interested in potion making and with her Aunt’s help she had quickly excelled in that area. Samara was quick to gesture to her Aunt to lead the way.

“I’d be thrilled to share with you some of my experiments I’ve done with potions and food.”

“Well my darling, I’m open to suggestions.”


	2. A Spoonful Of Cyanide Helps The Medicine Go Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says family bonding like some murder, more family reunions and reminiscing about the past.

Nothing helped strengthen family bonds like good ol fashioned murder. So when her Auntie Hilda asked for help lacing her almond cookies with cyanide, Samara hopped to it. Most people would expect Zelda of being the family member to lean towards murder, and they weren’t wrong. Many people overlooked cheery Hilda, expecting her to sooner burst into tears rather than take a violent course of action. How wrong those poor souls were. Aunt Hilda’s advantage was that people underestimated her and didn’t expect much from her. 

So when Aunt Hilda brought her guest into the parlour, Samara made sure to stick to the shadows that always welcomed her, to watch. 

_ Will you walk into my parlour said the spider to the fly. _ The poem passed quickly through Samara’s thoughts and she held back a snicker. It felt like watching the poem come to life as she watched their guest and Hilda sit. The plate of cookies sat so unassumingly between the two and Samara was practically vibrating in anticipation. Hearing about how this jealous woman had tried to bully her Aunt Zelda made the oncoming revenge that much sweeter. Watching Sister Jackson bring the innocent looking cookie to her lips, Samara felt unholy glee mounting within her and then a royal sense of satisfaction as the cookie crumbled into her mouth.

She could sense the shadows around her becoming affected by her mood. They twisted and twirled around her, wishing to partake in what she was. Samara gathered power to calm the shadows and bring them back to peace. She used them to slip into the kitchen and whispered to them as she always did.

Ever since she could remember the shadows had always been an entity to her. Yes, as witches they often used shadows to do their bidding; however with Samara it was like the shadows were a creature all of their own. When she had still lived with her mother Samara had often used the shadows as a way of hiding from the quick-to-anger woman. They were actually the reason she had ended up with the Spellman’s. 

She remembered how the shadows had been quick to wrap her up when her mother had struck her one time too many. They’d made everything dark and quiet, but she could still sense the penny copper and the slick warmth of blood as they did what they wanted to the evil woman. She remembered the way they teleported her through themselves, it was like sliding through clouds with ice nipping her toes and sun warming her cheeks. When she’d been able to blink her eyes and see, she’d been in a cozy parlour with two women staring at her open-mouthed. 

From then on she’d been Samara Spellman. Zelda and Hilda took a child materializing in a cloud of shadows quite well. Once the little girl had given information on who her mother was and they’d found the woman dead, Zelda, Hilda and Edward had easily taken her into their fold. So at the tender age of 4, she’d become a Spellman and the family had accepted all of her little quirks.

Edward out of the 3 siblings, had been a bit more cautious with or of her than the others. Internally he was bothered that he found a mere 4 year old to be cautious of. But, he could sense something strange about her. Setting aside the fact that oftentimes the girls visage would seem smothered by shadows; which he and his sisters learned were not just effects of the light, but seemed to react to the toddler like a creature all of their own. Not only did the shadows seem to warp her with physical darkness, there seemed to be some type of darkness that clung to and surrounded her aura. The reason Edward Spellman had accepted the estranged toddler in so easily, was contributed to when her quicksilver eyes had met his. In that moment, he felt like he could see all. He could see the darkness that lingered in her soul, the pain she had endured, the hope of her future with them, the loneliness, the gentleness and the sheer intelligence she’d stand to gain. What little he could sense of her aura and power, Edward knew that Samara would grow into a fearsome Witch that would one day do great things with the darkness that clung to her. So she became a part of the Spellman family and the rest was history.

“Sweetheart? Help me take out the trash please!” Aunt Hilda’s voice broke her from her reminiscing. Samara laughed to herself at her Auntie’s choice of words.

Samara took herself into the parlour where their undearly departed guest wait. She looked at the woman dispassionately and praised her Aunt for a job well done.

“Did she have a hint of what was happening?” Samara’s voice still held some of the unholy glee that filled her before Sister Jackson ate the cookie. Hilda looked up in slight confusion from where she was beginning to dispose of the rest of the sweets.

“Weren’t you in the corner the whole time, darling? I could’ve sworn that’s where you were when I brought her in.” Hilda mumbled the end to herself. Samara felt herself tense slightly as she normally did whenever she had to explain something about her Shadows.

“I was in the beginning. But They started to get unsettled so We went into the kitchen so I could calm them down. I didn’t want Them ruining the fun.” Samara’s voice was soft as she busied herself with getting ready to grab the dead woman to drag her to the cemetery. 

“Ahh, I see. Well, I’m sorry you had to miss the fun. Now, let me get these in the bin and we’ll start digging, yes?” Aunt Hilda had always accepted any of Samara’s quirks in stride and Samara was always grateful for it. Sabrina was always uncomfortable when Samara mentioned her Shadows. Ambrose and Aunt Zelda were on the accepting but cautious side. They understood that the Shadows were a part of Samara but they’d rather not hear any tales of what they’d done or could do. Samara was easy to oblige.

She didn’t wait for her Aunt to return from cleaning up their afternoon activity. Samara grabbed the dead body by the arms and with gentle coaxing to her Shadows, they helped her lug the woman outside. She had just settled the woman next to where her resting spot would be when Aunt Hilda joined her outside. Her Aunt brought with her two shovels. With a quick smile towards one another, they began to dig. Samara felt irritation rise as her black hair kept falling over her shoulder and getting in her face. By the time she’d made the decision to pull it up, 6 feet of dirt had already been moved and they were rolling the body into the emptiness. 

Samara and her Aunt chatted idly while they replaced the removed dirt. Zelda’s wedding the next day was a frequent topic. They spoke of how Hilda was going to help her prepare tonight and what to expect of the next day. By the time they finished replacing the soil, they were both covered in smears of dirt and grim. They parted to their separate rooms to freshen up, or in Aunt Hilda’s case, to get ready to leave.

“Alright, there’s some pasta in the pantry and juice in the fridge, and sweets on the counter. Non-poisoned sweets I mean. And I’ll just be at the Academy if you need anything. Oh, I feel awful leaving, my love. You just got here and here I am, leaving you all on your own.” Aunt Hilda was fretting. Samara giggled at her Aunt’s antics.

“I’m not a child Auntie. I’m sure I’ll be able to manage. Besides, Sabrina will be here with me tonight. And I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. I want to see Auntie Z before she walks down the aisle.” Samara wrapped her Aunt Hilda up in a tight hug and wished her luck on helping Aunt Zelda prepare. Aunt Hilda departed with a kiss to the forehead. Silence descended the house. Samara sighed heavily and leaned against the kitchen counter. She gazed out the window as the sun began to set. Phlox sat at her side and took in his surroundings. Samara perked up as an idea crossed her mind.

“Let’s go look and see what Aunt Hilda has in her garden before it gets too dark, Phlox.” Samara leaned down to pat her familiar on his head before walking outside. The air was cool but she didn’t plan on staying out too long to need her coat. Phlox bounded ahead of her and disappeared into the foliage. Samara shook her head with a laugh and strided over to the garden. She felt her Shadows brush her legs as they darted from under the flower bushes in the dying light. Amusement tingled her as she pursued the lovely collection of flowers, herbs and nature her Aunt tended to. 

A beautiful purple Crocus caught her eye as she’d been fawning over the Belladonna. She was leaning down to inhale it’s delicate scent when some Edelweiss floated before her. Samara caught them and looked at the flock of them to her right. She was curious as to how they’d managed to float towards her but chucked it up to her Shadows being mischievous. She gathered the loose ones into her hand and headed back inside. She called to Phlox to let him know where she’d gone but the fox familiar remained outside, probably chasing some poor rodent or another. 

Samara decided to spend her time waiting for her cousin to come home, by using her newfound Edelweiss and brewing some anti-nausea potions. She gathered all her supplies and set to work. As she quickly got lost in the flow of her favourite pastime, time flew by. Before she knew it, just as she was bottling up her brew, Sabrina was gliding through the door. Samara smiled at her white-haird cousin. And wasn’t that something to get used to. 16 years of her cousin being blonde and all of a sudden over one evening, her hair is white as bone. Samara quite liked the new look. As well as the bold red lipstick she religiously applied now too. Samara liked to contribute the red lipstick to being something she wore off onto her cousin, seeing as she had been wearing dark red lipstick for as long as she’d started wearing makeup.

“‘Mara! I forgot you were coming in today! I’m so glad you’re home.” Sabrina rounded the counter to embrace Samara. With a ladle in one hand and a sealed bottle in the other, Samara wrapped her arms around her cousin and squeezed. Samara had been close to her little cousin as they grew up, no matter the 5 year age gap. They’d formed a friendship outside of the familial one they shared as cousins. They’d been thick as thieves growing up and had given their family plenty of headaches. They’d become less in tune with one another since Samara had left Greendale, but the love and safety they’d shared with one another still remained. 

“I’m glad to be here too ‘Brina. How’ve you been?” Samara pulled away from Sabrina and set her instruments down and began to clean up her mess. Sabrina sat down across the counter and filled her in on what had been happening.

“So I found out that my dad created a manifesto. He was trying to modernize the Church and have the Coven become more progessive! He went on about how it’s not only okay for Witches to be with Mortals, but it’s encouraged! How Mortals and Witches share a home and destiny. How women should be revered as matriarchs. And so much more! I presented it to the Anti-Pope before Father Blackwood could present his manifesto.” Sabrina’s eyes lit up as she talked about her father’s ideals. Samara felt herself warm as she learned of her uncle’s thoughts. However, any warm feelings she might have felt were purged as Sabrina spoke of Blackwood.

“Blackwood’s manifesto. What manifesto? What did it contain?” Samara’s voice could not conceal her loathing towards the man. Sabrina’s face fell into a frustrated frown.

“He’s created a society, called the Judas Society. It’s named after his son and made up of only Warlocks. He wants to throw the Coven into the Old Ages and traditionalize it. His manifesto is full of Witches subjugating themselves to the Warlocks. How Mortals are disgusting and we shouldn’t interact with them. How Warlocks should rule over the Mortals. Ridiculous, vile thoughts.” Sabrina spat out Blackwood’s terms. Samara’s face held disgust as she heard her cousin’s words. Satan help her before she ever bowed before a man like Faustus Blackwood. Samara could see her Shadows swirl on the walls around them as they reacted to her mood. She was quick to calm herself so they wouldn’t off put Sabrina. 

“Well, if the Anti-Pope has a lick of sense, he’ll pick your father’s manifesto. Heaven, he might even get rid of Blackwood.” Samara grinned at her last statement. Both girls knew it wouldn’t happen but who could blame them for hoping.

The two young women began catching up on what they’d missed in the other's life. Sabrina had had many life changing experiences within the time they’d last mirror-scryed. Samara was content to hear all the changes. Her cousin told her about her Mortal and Witch friends. Samara was happy that she had both and to hear that Sabrina had a new crush. Nicholas Scratch sounded like a good Warlock for Sabrina.

“What about you Samara? Anything interesting happen in your life lately?” Sabrina prodded at her cousin. Samara had a smile gracing her lips.

“Nothing interesting really happens in Vail, Sabrina. It’s pretty much the same day in and day out. I go out and collect ingredients for my brews and craft. I make my potions and such. Sell them to who needs it. And that’s it. I might get the occasional curious mortal trying to snoop about but Phlox takes care of them.” Samara kept her boring proceedings short and to the point. There really was nothing extraordinary that happened in her life since she’d moved to Vail. She was sure that there was enough extraordinary things were happening in the Spellman household and hoped it’d stick to the rest of them and spare her.

“Seriously? That sounds pretty boring ‘Mara. You don’t have anything else to pass the time? Nothing even like a guy to occupy your time?” Sabrina tried to sound sly with her questioning of Samara’s lovelife; or rather non existent one. Samara hadn’t dated while she’d lived with the Spellmans. And that hadn’t changed once she’d moved either. She’d tried, don’t get her wrong. She’d met plenty of handsome Warlocks, especially during her time at the Academy. But anytime she’d been approached she’d been overwhelmed at her brain screaming at her  _ wrong, don’t touch, run away, not safe _ . The red alert sirens and lights going off in her head had been more than enough to deter her from interacting intimately with any potential lovers. While she did occasionally get struck with envy when seeing couples act so lovingly towards one another, Samara believed that when the time was right, she’d find her partner. 

“You know as well as I do Sabrina that there hasn’t been and isn’t anyone. Enough about me, tell me about your Nicholas Scratch!” Samara commandeered the conversation onto a topic she was more comfortable about; which was anything other than her lovelife. Sabrina happily ran along with this topic and hearts filled her eyes as she began telling Samara about Nick. As Samara listened to her cousin ramble on about her Warlock, her mind began to wander. She felt angry that she wasn’t here to constantly support her cousin through the many changes that had happened over the past months. She wanted to be here with her family more than anything, but her fear and hatred of what caused her to leave Greendale prevailed.

Samara remembered what it was like before she left. How happy and content the family was to all be together under one roof. While Ambrose might have been in exile and under house-arrest, he still treated his family like gold. Samara had been young and excited about the rest of her life; all the untapped possibilities. She’d been overjoyed to start her studies at the Academy of Unseen Arts. She’d already shown an affinity to brewing and herbology under her Aunt Hilda. 

Her first few months there had been a whirlwind. Meeting new Witches and Warlocks had been exciting. While Samara had excelled in herbalism and ritual magic, she had struggled in sacred geometry. Lucky for her the High Priest Father Blackwood, Dean of the school, had offered his own help to her studies and what she struggled in. Her Aunt Zelda had been ecstatic for Samara and considered what fortune it’d bring to the family that the High Priest was helping a member of the Spellmans. Samara had thought nothing of it and continued on with her studies and private tutoring with the High Priest. 

It was during her second year that her world tilted on its axis. Samara had continued to go to Father Blackwood’s office to study. It had simply become routine for her to. While she no longer required help with her sacred geometry, she’d often prod the High Priest for his thoughts on topics she was studying. She’d never thought it odd that out of every student in the school, she was the only one he’d offered tutoring to or let lounge in his office. She thought nothing of it until the night after her 17th birthday. 

She’d had her journals for herbalism laid on the table before her; her mind racing a mile a minute as she crafted ideas and theories for her next lecture. She didn’t take notice of the way the High Priest had sat in the chair at her side. She listened with half an ear as he praised her for her thought and dedication to her studies and Church. She hummed her answers as she continued with her work. He went on about how she’d become one of the strongest Witches the Academy had ever seen; he could sense it in the darkness and power that surrounded her he’d said. She half ignored his ramblings, that is until he’d placed his hand atop her thigh. She’d frozen and pinched the quill in her fingers.

He’d gone on about how wrong it was for a Witch her age and beauty to be without companionship. How he’d be more than willing to oblige her. As he said this his hand had started to creep higher. If Samara had thought the feelings of  _ wrong, run away _ were strong before when she was merely approached by an interested party; they were nothing compared to what was flooded with at that moment. Fear and betrayal had solidified her spine, her stomach and heart had dropped through her shoes. It felt like she was starting to float outside of her body, like she was watching a movie of this happen to her. She started to fear for the worst. Just when she thought everything was going to escalate, her body’s emotions were choked out by a hellfire rage. She felt this all-encompassing fury snuff out her other feelings, like an entity of itself. She could see her Shadows write along every surface they could, ready to act. Then nothing. 

She couldn’t remember anything past that. The next thing she remembers is being at home, explaining to her Aunties that she was no longer physically attending the Academy. That had been the one and only blow out her and her Aunties had ever had. They’d been ready to force her to go back before she’d collapsed on the ground in hysterics. To the present neither woman knew what caused her to leave the Academy. They figured it had something to do with the High Priest, but any questions they asked were either brushed off or blatantly ignored. 

Samara had excelled in her studies at home and finished them much earlier than had been planned. She had hoped that leaving the Academy would be enough for her to heal and avoid the High Priest. But she didn’t take into account the many gatherings they’d have at the Desiccated Church and his need to be there. It was soon after she’d finished her studies that she’d announced to her family that she’d be completing an apprenticeship with a Potion Master towards the South. They’d been devastated to see her go, but were content in the knowledge that she’d be following something she’d love. Her family expected her to return to Greendale once her apprenticeship was complete, but were saddened at her decision to completely leave Greendale and it’s Witch Community and to move to Vail, Colorado. Luckily for them, magic had made the separation much easier, scrying, astral projection and much more helped with the distance. 

“‘Mara. ‘Mara. Samara!” Sabrina’s voice ripped Samara from her dark memories. Samara felt her Shadows gathering around her as she forcefully reminded herself to release her white-knuckled grip from the arms of her chair. Sabrina was leaned forward, concerned and wary glances being cast towards her and her Shadows. 

“I’m fine. Sorry! Got lost in my head. It seems to be a common thing since I’ve arrived.” Samara grumped, taking a deep breath and relaxing back into her seat. She noticed that Phlox had settled himself on her lap and was chittering softly. She smiled softly and stroked his head. She sent out pulses of calm to her Shadows and watched as they receded and stilled.

“It’s been a long day, especially since you’ve travelled so far. Why do we head up to bed?” Sabrina soothed, standing and extending her hand towards Samara. Samara blinked at the limb for a moment before grasping it. She gathered Phlox up with her other arm and allowed herself to be corralled towards her room. 

“Sorry we couldn’t talk longer. Hopefully we can more tomorrow. It really has been a long day.” Samara’s voice was a mixture of sorrow and hope. She grinned as Sabrina gave a squeeze to her hand as they reached her room.

“It’s okay ‘Mara. It’s good to have you home. Goodnight”

“Night, ‘Brina.” She gave her cousin a parting smile and hand squeeze before disappearing behind her bedroom door. Samara set Phlox down, who quickly scurried to the bed and began to nest. She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed her temples and blew out a deep sigh. She was just starting to contemplate if it was worth the effort to rummage around in her bag to find a headache relief potion or not when she was distracted by a loud thump down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crocus - Youthful Gladness  
> Edelweiss - Courage, Devotion
> 
> Hey Kiddos. Thanks for reading so far! Let me know what you think. I honestly don't know how long this story is going to be. I absolutely know where I want this to go, and we are definitely not there yet. So buckle in for the ride. ;)


	3. Lavender and Begonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samara and Sabrina reunite. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so needless to say spoilers. Please don't read this if you haven't watched Part 2 to its completion. No Dark Lord yet. But we're getting there. Happy reading!

Samara had just been ready to begin relaxing when sounds down the hallway roused her. Loud voices and thumps. Never a good sign.

Phlox hopped off the bed and waited at the closed door for her to follow him. As she opened the door, she found that the noises were coming from Sabrina’s room. Samara began jogging down the hallway. Her panic and worry rising as the loud voices and thumping didn’t cease. Her Shadows writhed at her sides from her heightened emotions. Normally, when dealing with Sabrina, Samara tried to keep the Shadows to a minimum. But if Sabrina was in trouble, they could be of help. They’d helped Samara plenty enough times already.

She forwent knocking on the door and instead flung it open.

“Sabrina…?” Samara’s question died on her lips as she took in the scene. Sabrina was in the middle of the room with a handsome man behind her. Taking in his appearance and how Sabrina seemed unthreatened by him, Samara assumed this was Nicholas Scratch. She dismissed him and instead glanced at the figure that was pacing/stomping around the room and kept covering his face with bloodied hands.

“Ambrose? What happened? Why are you covered in blood?! Are you okay?” Samara stumbled forward, her arms outreached towards her blood-drenched cousin. She grasped his forearms and forced him to look at her. His pupils were blown wide. As he began rambling his story, Samara absentmindedly flicked her hand and called forth a calming draught from her bag. 

“He’s dead.” Ambrose’s voice was tight and full of dread. 

“What? Who’s dead?”

“I was guarding his chambers. And then there was blood.” Samara could see her cousin trembling as he spoke. “Oh dear Lucifer the Anti Pope is dead and I don’t remember why or how or who.” He looked at his hands and finally noticed the blood covering them. “It wasn’t me you have to believe me.” 

Samara once again grasped his arms after forcing the calming draught into one of his hands. She unstoppered the vial and felt even herself relax the slightest bit as the scent of lavender was released. 

“Of course not, Ambrose. We believe you. Now drink up and we’ll figure out what’s going on.” Samara squeezed his arms in encouragement as he guzzled down the draught. Instantly his breathing evened and his trembling stopped. They were going to continue talking when they heard Phlox growling and chittering at the door and Salem yowling and hissing downstairs. Soon they were followed by yelling voices downstairs. Samara heard mention of a traitor and felt her metaphorical hackles rise. No one messed with her family.

The four of them rushed to open the bedroom door to hear better. Phlox stood diligently by his Witch’s side. They could hear stomping and running around downstairs. 

“They’re coming for me. If Blackwood and the Judas boys find me they’re going to murder me!” Ambrose bemoaned, the draught helping keep his anxiety and worry at a low level. Samara could still sense the fear in his voice. Sabrina began to run down the hallway.

“Nick, get Ambrose someplace safe. Go. Go now! I’ll stall as long as I can.” She whipped back around and continued to run down the hallway. Samara spun around and wrapped her distraught cousin in a tight hug.

“It’ll be okay Ambrose. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you.” Samara whispered to him, squeezing him one last time before glaring over at her little cousin’s beau.

“If anything happens to him, it’ll be on your head. And I plan on collecting.” Her voice was low and filled with promises. She watched as Nick nodded a mile a minute before she too left down the hallway. She heard the door shut behind her and sent a quick prayer that they’d escape. 

She began to descend the stairs and saw Sabrina on the groundfloor with her Aunties, Blackwood and his posse. Samara stopped on the landing above the final stairs.

“What is the meaning of all this?” Her hand rested on the railing beside her and her head was craned regally. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction as Blackwood caught sight of her and a scowl worked its way onto his face.

“Ambrose Spellman has committed a crime so heinous I will not stop until I have his head!” The High Priest bellowed. Samara forced confusion to show on her face.

“Ambrose? Crime? What happened?” She breathed the questions and turned towards her Aunties. Both held concern on their faces as well as slight confusion.

“Have you seen Ambrose, Samara?” Zelda demanded an answer. Samara focused on her severe Aunt and felt true fear begin to curdle in her stomach at how she looked. Aunt Zelda was a constant beacon of strength and rationality. To see her as shaken as she was then would cause even the thickest of people to feel unsettled. 

“No, I haven’t seen him at all. What’s going on?” Samara questioned. 

“You don’t actually think Ambrose could’ve killed the Anti Pope do you Auntie?” Sabrina’s voice was small with her question. Samara reached over and squeezed her cousin’s hand.

“He was covered in blood. Dagger in hand. And when he was questioned he spirited himself away.” Aunt Zelda spat her reply. Samara felt the Shadows in the room twitched as her ire increased. She focused more of her energy into keeping them calm.

“Yes because he thought Father Blackwood was going to slaughter him. Like he had the other boys.” Aunt Hilda grit her teeth through her rebuttal. Samara stared at the two in shock. There were others?

“Others were a part of this? How many?” Samara questioned. Her worry and fear for Ambrose burned white hot in her chest. She knew her carefree and knowledgeable cousin was not capable of treachery like this.

“There were two other boys. They were dealt with before Ambrose ran.” Aunt Zelda’s brows furrowed as she remembered the scene.

“Aunt Zelda, this is Ambrose. Cousin Ambrose.  _ Our _ Ambrose.” Sabrina was pleading for Aunt Zelda to understand her reasoning. Yet Aunt Zelda was having none of her pleas.

“Yes. The very same Ambrose that plotted to blow up the Vatican.” Aunt Zelda’s attention was transferred to Blackwood’s as he entered the room. Samara looked away from him with a sneer. 

“There’s no trace of him. Come, Zelda. We must return to the Academy immediately. Tomorrow will be all the more challenging.” Blackwood ordered. Samara shot a glare towards him at how commanding he was. Here he was, in what was once her home, hunting down her dear cousin for a murder she didn’t believe he did and the almighty High Priest was throwing orders around like they were candy. 

“Wait, you’re not going through with the Wedding are you?” Sabrina asked the question on all their minds. 

“The Church of Night needs strong leadership right now. The hunt for Ambrose Spellman will continue. So too will our Wedding.” Samara fought to keep her Shadows under control at his words. A hunt and a wedding. How lovely. The last thing she needed on top of all this was for Blackwood to catch her Shadows doing something and suddenly she’d end up the next Witch he sent his little mob after. 

“Surely the circumstance…” Aunt Zelda never had the chance to finish as Blackwood interrupted her.

“It is our Dark Lord will, Zelda. We shall wed following the funeral of his Unholy Eminence.” Blackwood spoke to Aunt Zelda like she was a simpleton with not a brain cell to spare. Samara held her tongue though, as she promised her Aunt she would.

“A joint wedding and funeral?” Sabrina’s tone was of nothing but disgust and horror. Samara felt pride fill her at her cousin’s response to the loathsome worm.

“Hail Satan! Hail Judas!” As soon as the last chant left Blackwood and then his lackeys’ mouths, Samara felt a chill race up her spine. She missed the concerned, confused, worried faces her family shared at the chant; too caught up in processing her response.  _ That is wrong. Not right. Fix it. Betrayer. Liar _ . The words kept swirling around her head. She tried to refocus on her surroundings but the rage came back; rage similar to when the False God and Angels were mentioned. She hardly noticed everyone leaving until it was just her and Sabrina left. 

“I don’t know how we’re going to be able to sleep tonight.” Sabrina’s voice was tense and wary. It was just enough to snap Samara out of whatever she was in. Samara glanced up at her cousin and saw how wired she was. She placed her hand atop her cousin’s.

“Lucky you that you have a Potion Mistress for a cousin. Come along.” Samara patted Sabrina’s hand and got up. Together they entered the kitchen. Sabrina sat at the table while Samara flitted around the space, gathering ingredients, mixing, heating and pouring. Once it was done Samara placed the warm mug into Sabrina’s hands.

“Have this empty by the time you get to your room. Then lay your head down and think of sweet thoughts. Go now. Goodnight, dear cousin.” Samara pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s forehead and shooed her on her way. Watching her cousin sip her concoction as she walked to her room, Samara began to clean her mess once again. She was about to start on the dishes when Phlox began corralling her towards her room.

“Alright you sneaky fox! We’re going!” Samara chuckled at her familiar’s antics. As they entered the room, Samara with her mug in head and yet to be sipped, Phlox once again hopped up on the bed and nestled down. Samara placed her drink on the bedside table and went to her bag. She pulled out the black dress she’d brought with her for the Wedding. She splayed it out on top of the chaise beside the wardrobe. 

As she went about setting everything out for ease of getting ready tomorrow, her thoughts continually drifted back to the events of today. Had it only been this afternoon that she’d helped her Auntie bury a body? It felt like ages ago. Ambrose couldn’t have killed the Anti Pope. Set aside his gentle nature, what would he stand to gain from it? Besides having to be on the run for the rest of his life there was no positive. It made no sense. One thing Spellmen’s weren’t was stupid. If there was a plan to be made it was more than likely well thought out and perfectly executed. Yes, her and Sabrina were still learning but they had only been on the Earth for maybe 2 decades. Ambrose and her Aunties had been alive much longer and that spoke for experiences. So why would Ambrose crack and kill the Anti Pope? Because he didn’t do it. Or if he did then it wasn’t a conscious thought. It was probably Blackwood that good for nothing, vile, loathsome, disgusting…..

Samara’s musings were cut short as her Shadows twisted around her, trying to comfort her as they’ve always done. However, they grabbed at her legs and feet, causing her to trip towards the bedpost she was closest to. She managed to catch herself on the post herself, stopping its projected aim at her eye. She crawled into the bed and felt the Shadows trying to smother her in their version of comfort. She chuckled and agreed to stop thinking about her cousin. No use in dwelling over what happened or was going to happen. She’d make sure her cousin was safe.

Samara grabbed her drink and began sipping it. She closed her eyes and waited for the influence of sleep to grasp at her. Soon enough it began to drag at her eyelids and slow the cogs whirring in her brain. She made sure to set the empty mug on the table before allowing herself to slip into sleep’s sweet embrace.


	4. Thyme and Glamour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I already have 15,000 words written for this story. And I'm just now starting chapter 7. Help.

Samara didn’t get to attend many weddings. She didn’t have many friends outside of her family. Any she had made during the Academy were lost when she began homeschooling. The Witch community in Vail wasn’t as large as the Greendale one and besides, Witch communities weren’t fond of bringing in outsiders. So as she sat amongst her former Coven members Samara faintly wished she was a part of a community as large as this one.

She tuned out most of what Blackwood was saying. He stood before them in his ornate robes and rambled on about their loss of the Anti Pope. Samara smoothed her black lace dress over her knees, picking off some stray fox hair as she went. She’d spent the morning getting ready and brushing Phlox. Her Aunts had been away at the Academy, Ambrose was still in hiding and Sabrina was with Nick. She had wanted to arrive at the Academy early and help her Aunt Zelda prepare but when she’d called she was told to simply arrive with the rest of the guests. So she’d busied herself at the Spellman house and waited until the time arrived to head to the Desecrated Church. It had felt odd to leave Phlox behind since he’d been stuck to her hip since she’d moved to Vail. She felt uneasy being alone but her Shadows were often to remind her they were still with her.

The deep rumbling of drums caused her to turn and look towards the doors of the Church. She felt her eyes prick and blur as she caught sight of her Aunt Zelda. Aunt Hilda was beautiful as she marched down the aisle in front of her sister, a grin gracing her face as she went forward. Samara was slightly confused as to why there was a strange girl walking in front of them but assumed she must have been related to Blackwood in someway to be a part of the wedding.

Aunt Zelda was a vision as she glided at the end of the small line. Her black and ruby dress accented her figure beautifully. The golden crown she wore was draped with a black veil both which caused slight want to well within Samara. Gold and black had always been her two most favourite colours. To see her Aunt adorned with them made her warm. Within her Aunt’s hands was the ceremonial blade. An intrinsic thing of beauty in and of itself. Never to be wielded for harm or battle, it’s sole purpose was for rituals like it attended now.

“In the name of Satan I call forth the demons who rule marriage and lust. Astaroth, Furfur, Hathor, and Ishtar. Saleous, Uvall, and Vassage. Be here and forge this union like fire forges the blade. Demons of the deep, accept this gift of blood.” For all that Samara hated the man, Blackwood could command his power like no Warlock she’d met. His voice reverberated throughout the Church and demanded unerring attention. 

Samara kept her focus off of him and instead continued to look at the visage of her Aunts. Aunt Hilda stood proudly by Aunt Zelda’s side. She made eye contact with Samara and her grin grew bigger. Samara could tell she wanted to wave, but couldn’t break the ritual. Aunt Zelda looked regal and proud. Her head craned high and a pillar of beauty. Her gaze was locked ahead. Samara knew that her Aunt was nervous and this was why she refused to glance around the crowd.

She saw the girl that had walked up the aisle take the dagger from Aunt Zelda. Samara watched with dispassion as she slit the throat of a dead animal and let it bleed into the chalice below it. As she handed the chalice to Blackwood, his words once again rang through the air.

“My bride and I will fortify our physical bodies with the blood of this sacrificed being.” Faustus and Zelda each took a sip from the chalice. Samara held in a squirm at the thought of having to drink straight blood. 

“The hand of my bride will now be sheathed with mine under the skin of a mortal. Hilda.” Samara’s Aunt Hilda wrapped the piece of flesh around Aunt Zelda and Faustus’ hands. Samara wrinkled her nose as she could hear the flopping and squelch of the flesh.

“Now, Sister Zelda, in the name of Satan, you shall respect me, obey me and submit to me. As Lilith served Satan, so will you serve me. You will forsake all others, lift me up and exalt me for all eternity. And now by the onholy power invested in me-” Samara felt her teeth grind at how misogynistic the vows were. But before Blackwood could finish his vows he was interrupted.

“Murderer!” Samara whipped around at the familiar voice that shouted. She felt all the blood in her body rush towards her feet and her chest seized with grief and disbelief. Her believed dead Uncle and Aunt, soaked to the core with water and faces pruned almost beyond recognition, stormed through the doors of the Church. She heard mutters of astonishment around her.

“It is I, Edward Spellman, returned.”

“And I, Diana Spellman, returned.” Samara once again felt tears threaten to fall as her hand rose to her lips. Their voices were just as she remembered, even if they held anger within them now.

“I accuse Faustus Blackwood, who brought down our plane that took our lives. I accuse Faustus Blackwood who killed the Anti-Pope while he slept under the very same roof. Confess Blackwood, or face my wrath!” Edward’s voice held just as much power as Blackwood’s. Samara could sense why her Uncle was held with such great esteem. The congregation murmured around them.

“Your wrath….Indeed. You forget girl. I knew your father. And whatever the circumstances, Edward Spellman would never disrespect our ceremonies and traditions as you do. And so this petty trickery comes to an end.  _ Detegant istos ostenderet falsa. _ ” Where Diana and Edward once stood, now stood Sabrina and Nick. Samara felt some betrayal cross her heart. Blackwood was right for once in his life. Even though Samara despised that her Auntie was marrying the worm, never would she think to sabotage the ceremony. To do so was to only invite in bad karma. Samara knew that Sabrina was raised with better judgement and respect than what she was currently showing. 

Samara watched the shock cross her Aunts’ faces as her cousin was revealed. She too felt shock as Blackwood called for his lackeys to seize both Sabrina and Nick. Satisfaction curled within her at Nick warning the boys off to protect both him and his girlfriend.

“I am Sabrina Spellman. I shall speak and I shall be heard. You, Faustus Blackwood, are a fraud.” Sabrina’s voice rang through the Church. While Samara was irritated with her cousin’s actions, she felt a low sort of elation as her cousin called out the man.

“Sabrina, what are you saying?” Samara felt herself cringe at the barely concealed rage within her Aunt’s voice. She grasped her dress that laid against her thighs and held it within tight-knuckled fists.

“I’m sorry, Auntie. But it’s true. He killed my father and mother, and I believe he killed the Anti-Pope too.” Sabrina’s words only caused Samara’s thoughts from the night before to feel more solidified. Again the Church was a buzz with murmurs.

“And why would I have done that?”

“Because you were afraid His Eminence wouldn’t approve your repugnant, misogynistic reformations.” Sabrina spat her reply.

“Which you haven’t even read, have you? Hm. Let it be known there is no proof to any of this. Yet your very own cousin was covered in His Eminence’s blood.” 

“Ambrose Spellman is innocent!” The shout echoed throughout the Church. The silence that followed was quickly cut short by the man in questions materializing on the altar himself.

“Die Blackwood! Die!” Ambrose looked like a crazed man with blood still saturating his clothes and a dagger in hand. The girl at Blackwood’s side froze Ambrose before he could commit the act he arrived to do. Blackwoods lackeys were quick to tackle and subdue Ambrose. 

Samara jumped to her feet and began to stagger forward to help her cousin but Nick grabbed her arm before she could continue. She looked on helplessly as they escorted Ambrose out of the Church. She wanted nothing more than to free him, but his recent actions only confirmed many suspicions the Coven held. It would take an Unholy miracle to help him now.

  
  


Samara stood at her Aunt and Sabrina’s side as they sat outside the High Priest’s office at the Academy. Her black coat was draped over her arm as her other hand picked at the skin of her thumb. Her gaze was locked on the carpet before her. Her thoughts were lost in remembrance of what happened the last time she was near this office. She felt her Shadows nudging against her back that was resting against the wall. She splayed her hand against the wall in reassurance to them. Before she could get lost in thought again, her Aunt Zelda stalked out of the office.

“Congratulations. You ruined my wedding day, Sabrina.” Aunt Zelda’s eyes were full of fire. Samara felt herself shrink away and her Shadows rise to shield her. Samara never dealt well with reprimand from her family. 

“Aunt Zelda-” 

“A day of greatness for the Spellman family shall now, instead, go down infamy.” Aunt Zelda always held public image on a pedestal. She was constantly worried about how the Spellmans were perceived in the Coven.

“Where’s Ambrose, Aunt Z?” Samara kept her voice soft as she peered at her furious Aunt.

“Your cousin has been thrown in the Witch’s Cell for his treasonous crimes.” Aunt Zelda’s voice was steady but Samara could detect a small amount of sorrow for her nephew.

“No!” Sabrina cried out.

“What of Sabrina?” Aunt Hilda finally spoke. Samara stole a quick glance at her cousin before focusing back onto her Aunts.

“She and Nicholas have been expelled from the Academy of Unseen Arts. And they deserve it. It was all I could do to convince Faustus not to lock you in the dungeon too.” Aunt Zelda’s words held all the disappointment she surely felt. Samara could only imagine how upset her Aunt truly was. 

“Well at least I stopped your wedding.” Samara closed her eyes at her cousin’s words. Some tact would’ve been nice at the moment but Sabrina had always been a bit thick-headed when other’s feelings were involved. 

“Oh! Stopped it? Sabrina, Faustus and I were just married in his office.” Aunt Zelda stalked away to the office as she finished her sentence. Sabrina, Samara and Aunt Hilda all stood, shock freezing them from moving.


	5. Snapdragons and Repenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A malicious guest arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost finished writing this story guys! Only a couple chapters left for me, but plenty updates for you all. Let me know what you think!

The days following Aunt Zelda’s wedding and Ambrose’s imprisonment were somber. Samara’s original plan was to depart from the Spellman house shortly after the wedding and head back to Vail. She had a business there after all. However, with all the recent developments she had decided to stay with her family and offer the support they needed. So as the dawn rose, Samara got herself ready, patted Phlox on the head where he still lounged in the bed and left her room. 

Aunt Hilda was downstairs in the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl. Stress cooking. Samara approached her melancholy Aunt with a soft smile.

“Auntie, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

“Of course, my love. What is it?” Aunt Hilda dusted her hands off on the apron she was wearing.

“I know originally, I was going to be leaving today to head back to Vail. But I figured, what with everything going on, I could perhaps stay for a bit longer? Just until everything is figured out with Ambrose and Auntie Z is back from her honeymoon. I just want to help.” Samara wrung her hands together and stared out the kitchen window, towards the many flowers that swayed in the wind. The brightly colored Snapdragons caught her eye.

“Samara, when would we ever deny you staying?! Of course, my girl! We’d be thrilled to have you around some more. Perhaps we can even convince you to stay forever with a little more time. Keep your cousins out of trouble.” Aunt Hilda squeezed her hand teasingly. Samara let out a low chuckle.

“We’ll see, Auntie. Well, if I am going to be staying for longer than I planned, I do need to hop back to the shop and get some things ready for it. I’ll be back before evening. Anything you want me to bring back?” 

“Oh! How about some rationality brew to pour down your bloody cousins’ throats?” Samara laughed at her Aunt’s joke. She leaned forward and kissed the woman on her cheek.

“I’m afraid even the Dark Lord himself couldn’t brew a potion strong enough to keep their heads on straight. I’ll see you soon Auntie. Give Sabrina my love.” Samara stepped back and braced herself for the teleportation. With a whispered chant she was floating through space and time. 

She landed in the small sitting room of the house she had in Vail. Luckily there was a side table near where she appeared and she used that to steady herself. She shook her head to clear herself of the disorientation. Snapping her fingers, the lights flickered on and she moved to the workshop at the back of the house. It was a nicely sized room where she did all her brewing, grinding and bottling for her work and hobby. Dried and fresh ingredients lined the walls and ceiling either in containers or hanging. The pungent scent of herbs and flowers lingered in the air.

Samara felt the tension she held in her shoulders release as she took in the scent of her workroom. She checked the moisture level of the foxglove and mint as she passed by them. She had a lingering thought that they’d be dry as a bone by the time she returned. Shaking the thought away she turned to the brews she had on one of the counters.

She went to work bottling the requested brews and writing letters to her clients that she’d be indisposed for the unseeable future. She’d get in touch with all of them when she returned to work. She gathered everything up and set them in their designated boxes. She focused for a moment and then began tapping each individual box which instantly disappeared and transported to the client that needed it. 

The time passed quickly as she continued to work. She safely stored some of her more testy and hard-to-aquire ingredients and gathered some gifts for her family. As she got her little cottage prepared for a more longer term vacancy. She went around the house and gathered what she’d need for her longer stay at the Spellmans. By the end she had two suitcases ready in the sitting room. 

She went outside to her sprawling garden and began to carefully walk through the many rows of herbs, flowers and foliage. She stopped by the large patch of red Chrysanthemums that had been what convinced her to buy the cottage. Not only were the flowers beautiful, they were incredibly useful in many brews she made. And without fail, whenever she used those flowers her potions were always successful and potent. Samara was sad to part with them, even if it was only for an indeterminate amount of time. She stroked one of the petals before she headed back inside.

She went over to her bags and glanced at the clock. It was just reaching late afternoon. Hopefully she’d get to the Spellman house just in time to be able to help plot something for Ambrose. She grabbed her two bags after making sure all the lights were off and took a deep breath. She chanted under breath and began teleporting. 

She landed in her room at the Spellman house, falling forward onto the bed after dropping her luggage. Samara groaned as the feelings of teleporting drained from her body. She sat up and took stock of her room. Thankfully her suitcases had remained sealed and not spilled everything everywhere. She’d done that before. She quickly set to work unpacking her bags and settling in. 

The sun was still high in the sky when she finished. She had heard noise downstairs indicating someone was there. More than likely Sabrina since she would’ve just finished with school; her having to return to the mortal school since she’d been expelled from the Academy. Samara brushed her hands off on her jeans and headed downstairs. She was interested in hearing what plans Sabrina and her Aunt had come up with to help Ambrose. She had a few ideas herself.

Samara felt herself begin to frown in confusion as she heard a male voice talking downstairs and her cousin’s voice replying. She hurried down the stairs to see who their guest was. She entered the kitchen to see her cousin filling a glass with water and a taller, handsome man standing by their dining table.

“Cousin. Who’s our guest?” Samara felt giddy delight brush through her at seeing both jump at her question. Sabrina turned around and smiled brightly at Samara but before she could answer her question the man spoke.

“Hi. I’m a missionary for my church. But the young miss here explained that your family already has a faith. I just asked for a glass of water before I left.” The man stared at Samara as he spoke. Chills raced down Samara’s spine for some reason. She stepped closer to Sabrina and watched the man. Her Shadows threatened to twist and turn where they were but Samara kept them still, not wanting to show them to the mortal.

“I see. Do you get many converts, going door to door?” Samara asked, still remaining by Sabrina’s side. Something was off about all this. Samara tried to brush it off, thinking it stress and worry from the past couple days.

“Uh, you’d be surprised. The Word of the Almighty can hold a lot of appeal to people. As long as they’re open to it. I’m Jerry by the way.” He accepted the glass of water from Sabrina and began peering around the room.

“Sabrina. And this is my cousin, Samara.” Samara shot a quick look towards her cousin for giving their names to a stranger.

“Thank you. It’s thirsty business doing the Lord’s work.” Samara subtly rolled her eyes at the man. She leaned back against the counter with Sabrina, her taller cousin shooting a quick smile towards her.

“What religion do you practice? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“It’s more spiritual, really. Personal to our family.” Samara answered before her cousin could. Her arms crossing over her chest. The chills up and down her spine were getting more intense. More feeling like flames and ice racing along her skin. 

“Does it comfort you?” His question was off-putting. Samara thought back to the night she signed her name in the Book and the reassurances she had been flooded with.

“Yes.” 

“To be honest, sometimes it scares me.” Samara turned her stare to her cousin at her answer. Barely concealing her shock and irritation at divulging personal information to this stranger. A stranger that promoted the words of the False God at that!

“What about it?” Jerry was subtly prying and Sabrina was falling for it. Samara wanted to grab her cousin and shake her. Where was her sense?

“That at its core it’s...What’s at the core of your religion?” Samara let out a quiet breath at her cousin not fully answering.

“Forgiveness and salvation. Who couldn’t use more of those things in their lives?” He gave a soft chuckle with his answer. Samara kept her eyes on him as he began rounding the table towards them.

“But aren’t some people beyond saving?” Sabrina’s question held honest confusion. Samara closed her eyes in exasperation. Honestly, her cousin just didn’t know when to stop.

“Not in my book. No matter what choices they’ve made.” The man continued to look at her cousin. Something in Samara wanted him to leave and stay away. Something in her wanted to flee. She wanted to grab her cousin and run. It was such a ridiculous thought. This mere mortal was causing her senses to go haywire. Maybe she inhaled more of the fumes from that Confusion Concoction than she originally thought.

“But if you dedicate your entire life to something most people think is wrong...or evil...you can’t just wash that away.” Sabrina walked closer to the dining table as she spoke. Samara tensed and dug her fingernails into her arms she still had crossed.

“A hundred percent you can. You just have to ask for forgiveness.” Jerry set his drink down and leaned towards Sabrina.

“If only it were that easy.” Sabrina’s face was scrunched in disbelief.

“Sabrina, that is exactly what I am saying. It is.” Samara scoffed at his words about retort when she heard Phlox making one Heaven of a commotion outside, screeching and chattering. She felt herself tense even more, torn between sticking to her cousin’s side or checking on her familiar. Her answer was made when the phone began to ring and Sabrina hurried to pick it up. Samara rushed out the back door to check on Phlox.

Her worry instantly died when she found him sitting in the garden flicking his tail. He looked fine and nothing around him seemed disturbed. 

“What? Phlox?” Her questions stopped when she heard something going on in the house. She began running back in with Phlox at her feet growling and chattering. She entered the house to see her cousin and the missionary man missing. Cautiously walking through the ground floor, her worry began mounting as she still couldn’t find Sabrina. Just as she rounded the corner of the staircase, she could see the front door hanging by its hinges. She could see Jerry hulking in the doorway, looking out towards the driveway. Just around his side she could see Sabrina cycling down the driveway Salem close behind. Samara began to slip back around the corner and run when Jerry turned to face her. 

“Wait! You can be forgiven! I can show you salvation!” He began screaming and quickly approaching her. As she turned to run she saw the familiar glint of a blade in his hand. Samara felt true panic and fear begin to settle in her chest. She weaved through the house with Phlox sticking close. She could hear Jerry’s thundering footsteps close behind her. She just needed enough space between the two to be able to teleport away, but she also needed to be able to have Phlox touching her so he could teleport with her too.

She was almost to the stairs leading down to the mortuary when she tripped over one of the many rugs in the house. She landed harshly onto her knees and was quick to flip over onto her back to keep Jerry in her line of sight. Seeing her on the ground, he slowed. He began stalking towards her, knife stretched out at his side.

“The choice to be who you are now was made for you when you were still a child! There is still time for you to change and be saved! Repent! Ask for forgiveness and you shall receive.” His ramblings were causing irritation to flutter in with her fear. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the Shadows begin to writhe and twist. She felt her core relax a bit at the sight. She began to slowly extend her arm towards Phlox.

“Sorry bud, I like my cult, not looking to join another one! Phlox!” She yelled to her familiar at the same time the Shadows descended upon the man, keeping him back as she gathered her familiar in her arms.

“ _ Lanucae magicae. _ ” She spoke clearly and buried her face in Phlox’s fur. She landed with a thump in the middle of Cerberus’ Bookstore. She was sure her Aunt would be there. She lifted her head out of Phlox’ fur and took in her surroundings or rather what was left. The bookstore was in tatters, shelves busted and books strewn everywhere. 

“Samara!” She heard her Auntie yell her name. She raised a trembling hand and was helped up. Sabrina was by her side and they quickly wrapped the other in a hug.

“What happened here?” Samara’s voice was buried in her cousin’s shoulder.

“Witch-hunter. It seems there’s a couple running around here. What happened to the one at home?” Aunt Hilda’s hand stroked through her free-flying hair. Samara pulled back and looked at her.

“He’s still alive. I got a couple seconds to run away and I did.” Samara stared at her Aunt as she spoke, hoping she’d get the meaning behind her words. Luckily she did. Aunt Hilda’s face lit with realization and relief. She patted Samara’s cheek in response.

“So, there are two witch-hunters running around Greendale. Lovely.” Samara sighed, Phlox leaning against her leg.

“Three.” Nick’s breathless word came as he burst open the door. “Well, there were three. They call themselves the Innocents.” Sabrina immediately went to him and wrapped him in a hug. “The one who stormed Dorian’s is now trapped in one of his paintings. Sorry Sabrina. I was a dick before but believe me, I’m sobering up fast.” Nick grasped Sabrina’s arms as he apologized.

“What do they want? Do we know?” Samara broke their reunion with her question. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she looked around at the damage.

“To kill all the witches in Greendale. According to the hunters we subdued, their plan was to start with the outliers. You, your aunt, the crew at Dorian’s. And then converge at the Academy.” Nick answered. They all looked at eachother with worry.

“Ambrose.”

“They’ll all be sitting ducks. We have to warn them.” Sabrina stressed.

“We’re expelled. There’s no way we’re getting into that school. Not without a Hand of Glory.” Nick had a good point. Samara and Hilda shared a glance.

“Oh! You can take your pick in the botanical room at home. I mean, I have half a dozen at least. Okay?” Hilda reassured the two. Samara stepped forward, her arms unfolding.

“Let’s go kill some Witch-Hunters.” She shared a wicked smile with Nick and Sabrina.


	6. Marigold and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powers and witch hunters and fire. OH MY!

Chapter 6 - Marigold and Fire

Back at the Spellman House, while Nick and Sabrina were getting the Hand of Glory from Aunt Hilda, Samara ran upstairs to her room. She held out her hand as she approached her armoire filled with potions and ingredients. A bag flew into her hand and she quickly began picking potions out and filling her bag. While she hoped they’d get to the Academy before the Witch Hunters did, she wanted to be prepared if they didn’t. While a couple potions could be used as weapons, most of what she gathered were to help the fallen. Phlox paced around the room ready to go.

“Phlox, I know you want to go with me but you have to stay here. I can’t fight the hunters, help the injured and worry about you too. You’ll be safe here.” Samara’s words were met with fierce protests from her familiar. She huffed out a breath and kneeled down. She extended her hand towards him.

“I know. I know. I’m the worst Witch alive and the most neglectful familiar. But I can’t have you go. I  _ need _ to know you’re safe, here. Please Phlox.” Her voice was pleading and soft. She fought a smile as her familiar huffed and padded over to her, bumping her hand with his snout. She scratched his head before hurrying downstairs.

“Sabrina. Sabrina!” That sounded like Harvey Kinkle. Samara strode down the stairs, bag slung on her shoulder and clinking against her hip. Sure enough, that was Sabrina’s ex-boyfriend standing in their entry. Sabrina came running from the botanical room.

“Harvey!” 

“Oh, you’re okay!” Harvey enveloped Sabrina in a tight hug. Samara’s brow quirked at that. From what Sabrina had filled her in on, Harvey and his friends hadn’t been very nice to Sabrina. Judging her for her witch power and other things. It just lowered them in her mind. Samara never did have a high level of empathy for mortals.

“Well, yeah. I’m fine. But what are you doing here?” Sabrina pulled away as she spoke. Samara continued down the stairs, joining Nick at his side.

“Sabrina, someone was trying to kill you. How could I not come?” Samara rolled her eyes at his comment while watching her Aunt melt at his words.

“How’d you know about that?”

“I was with Roz when she had her vision. I rushed over to make sure you were okay. I’m so sorry for what I said and how I acted. Roz and I both are. It was shitty. It’s just… Roz has been hurting and I don’t know how to help her.” Harvey continued to ramble. Samara rolled her eyes again at his excuses. She heard Nick scoff at her side and shot him a smile.

“It’s fine, Harvey, truly. But we have to go. Witch-hunters are attacking the Academy.” Samara blew a sigh through her nose as Sabrina spoke. Now the boy would want to join them and help save Sabrina. Typical.

“Witch-hunters are attacking your other school?”

“Yeah, we better hurry.” Nick’s answer was short as he clapped Harvey on his back as he passed by him. Samara squeezed her Aunt’s hand and began to leave with Nick.

“I wanna come too. To help.” Bingo.

“No way, Witch-hunter.” Nick was firm in his response. 

“No. Uh.. Nick’s right, Harvey. It’s too dangerous.” Sabrina tried to speak some sense into the other boy.

“Yeah, and we don’t need anymore Witch-hunters.” Nick spit out. Samara moved forward and rested her hand on their magically repaired door, ready to go.

“I told you the night of the Greendale Thirteen, Sabrina. I’m done being a coward. If there are people-” Harvey began on a tirade.

“Witches.” Nick corrected.

“Whatever, in trouble, you’re gonna need as much help as possible.”

“Oh for Satan’s sake, let him help. He just wants to put things right. We don’t know how many Witch-hunters there are do we? So the more the merrier. Come on, sweet Harvey. I’ll catch you up on the way, my love.” Aunt Hilda cut in corralling everyone out the door. Always the one with a big heart. Samara couldn’t care less if the mortal came. So long as he actually proved useful and not a hindrance.

  
  


The group of 5 entered the Academy to destruction. There was blood spattered along the tile and the statue at the center of the school was rubble. 

“Baphomet! What unspeakable thing could have done this?” Nick breathed out. Staring in horror at the pieces of stone strewn on the ground. Samara continued around the room, looking for the students or professors.

“Are we too late?” Hilda asked the question on everyones’ minds. 

“Prudence? Agatha? Dorcas?” Sabrina called out. 

“Where is everyone?” Nick asked as he left the fallen statue. Just as he did, someone collapsed onto the floor over a chair in the next room. They all rushed over to see the heavily bleeding man.

“Ambrose? Ambrose!” Samara ran forward and fell to his side. She helped him onto his back and began scanning his wounds. She stared in horror at the dagger sticking from his chest as he seized. Blood poured from his mouth and wounds, soaking his clothes and staining his teeth.

“Thanks for the chicken, Aunt-” He began speaking but was cut off by choking and seizing. Aunt Hilda knelt across from her as Samara began rummaging through her bag. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood. I’m trying to find something for him. Try to stop the bleeding and get that Satan-forsaken dagger out of him.” Samara snapped as she continued to search for the vials she needed.

“Okay. This is going to hurt a tiny bit okay?” Aunt Hilda soothed before wrapping her hand around the dagger and ripping it out of his chest. Ambrose’s torso rose from the ground from the pain. Both let out ear-piercing shrieks.

“Ohh, I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry. Okay.  _ Rivers may flow that blood may not. Blood be bound, and blood be clot. _ ” Aunt Hilda chanted and continued under her breath as the blood flow paused. Samara finally found the vials she’d been searching for and began pulling them from her bag. Setting them onto the floor beside her.

“Ambrose, where is everyone?” Sabrina leaned over her cousin and asked him.

“Two...angels…..took them.” Ambrose managed to groan out. Samara’s head shot up and stared in shock at the rest of the group.

“Angels?”

“Aren’t angels supposed to be nice?” Harvey’s questions broke through Samara’s shock.

“Have you ever actually read the Bible? Angels are the ones with fiery swords.” Samara bit out, double checking the vials beside her.

“Took them where, Ambrose? Do you know?” Sabrina pressed to her gasping cousin.

“I do, Miss.” Came an otherworldly voice of a little boy. Sabrina leapt up and rushed towards the figure.

“Quentin! What happened?”

“The angels, they tried to take me and the other ghost children to Heaven, but we ran and hid.” The boy walked towards Sabrina. Samara felt sorrow slash through her at the thought of these Angels trying to uproot the children from their home.

“Did he just say ghost children?” Harvey asked full of disbelief. Samara snorted.

“So where did the angels take the witches, darling? ‘Cause we need to help them.” Hilda’s distraught voice interrupted, her eyes filled with tears. Ambrose began choking again and Hilda’s attention was drawn towards him.

“Our desecrated church.” 

“Our desecr- Why would they go there?” Sabrina asked in confusion.

“To convert them probably. That’s what they do. Convert then kill. They call it Cleansing.” Samara answered as she began pouring potions down Ambrose’s throat. Blood replenishing, pain numbing, energizing, plus others. 

“Let’s go then!” Sabrina was filled with determination.

“No you can’t Miss. They found the Church from us. Sealed it with Holy Water and reconsecrated it. No witches can get in or out.” Quentin interrupted. Samara felt herself droop at his response. All those witches.

“Okay, well. It’s not safe for you or the other ghost children here. Go back to your graveyard and hide, okay?”

“Yes, Miss.” Quentin disappeared before their eyes, presumably to return home.

“Sabrina I’m gonna have to tend to Ambrose’s wounds, so- He’s still losing blood.” Aunt Hilda despaired. Samara growled and started pulling more vials from her bag. The group behind her began figuring out how they were going to break into the Church. Samara forced some more potions into Ambrose. 

“I’ve already given him as much blood replenisher as I can for right now. He’ll have a reaction if I give him any more. Here, these 3 purple vials are it. If he’s still bleeding like he is in 15 minutes then give him another vial. Same thing 15 minutes after that. Yes?” Samara gave the instructions to her Aunt, feeling anger well within her that her potions weren’t working how she wanted them to. It must’ve been a blessed blade.

“Yes, my love. Thank Satan you brought your bag.” Aunt Hilda cradled her cheek in a bloodied hand, leaving behind streaks of blood on her pale skin. Samara heard her cousin storming out of the room, presumably to head to the desecrated church. She spun around and demanded Nick’s attention. 

“Nicholas. Aunt Hilda will need help. Ambrose isn’t clotting, even with everything I’ve given him. I think it’s because the blade was blessed. Keep chanting and keep him breathing. I’ll figure something out when I get back.” Samara commanded and stood up, turning to leave the room. Nick leapt up and grabbed her arm.

“Whoa, we just went over that no witch can get in or out of the Church. What do you think you’re going to be able to do?”

“Over my dead body is Sabrina facing avenging fucking angels alone. I don’t care if I have to raze that bloody building to the ground myself.  _ Nothing _ is going to happen to her.” Samara growled out, her eyes flashing with fury. Nick quickly recoiled at her tone. He also ripped his hand away from her skin, feeling like he was holding hellfire. Samara spun around and stalked out of the Academy.

Her trip to the Church was short but filled with violence. Unconsciously any bush, tree or leaf in her path burst into flames as she walked. She found herself before the now consecrated church and glared. She took a deep breath and walked forward with single-minded determination. 

She reached the front door and felt like she’d hit a wall. Even though the doors were open, it felt like they were closed to her. Samara bared her teeth at the barrier and placed a hand against it. She felt it shudder at her mere touch and grinned a wicked smile. She dug her sharpened nails into the barrier and drug down. She felt as she managed to worm a sliver of a hold into the shield. Her grin grew at the small success and began channelling all of her energy, power and focus into creating a rip just big enough to fit through. Her Shadows swarmed around her, lending her extra energy as she expended hers. She felt herself begin to waver, her strength waning. She grit her teeth, solidified her spine and continued to pull and push and rip and rend. She felt a scream build in her chest as her magic threatened to fail. She released it with a haunting wail as blood began to drip from her nose. Finally, she could tell the hole she’d made was just big enough for her.

Samara rested her hands against the still standing parts of the barrier, panting as she recollected herself. She finally squirmed her way through the barrier. She flicked the loose hair out of her face and used the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her nose. She squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and marched towards the internal doors of the Church.

Samara stood in the doorway of the room as she watched Sabrina fall to the ground, arrow-riddled and a thorn crown upon her head. She remained silent as she took in the scene before her. 

The mere observer would’ve kneeled before her as they saw the fury within her eyes. Her dark hair flowed from her shoulders, her chin held high and set in determination. The glint of hellfire that shone in her eyes. The unholy shadows that danced around and caressed her. The coven that trembled before her would always picture this when her name was mentioned. 

“Samara Spellman! As your cousin was forsaken, there is still a chance for you! Kneel before the Lord and repent!” Jerry shouted, his arms raised before him. A crossbow held in one hand. Samara raised an eyebrow in response, feeling as though something otherworldly was influencing her.

“You dare come into my Community. You dare push your beliefs onto us. You dare slaughter innocent Witches in our Church of worship! I promise you, angel, you will come to regret what you have done. You will live the pain you have caused. You will not know peace for as long as I walk this Universe!” Samara’s voice echoed around the church with promise. The witches shuddered at the truth that rang through it. The male angel sneered at the tiny fearsome witch before him.

“Then you will meet an end like your Coven.” With quick movements he sent an arrow soaring through the air where it found its home in Samara’s abdomen. She looked down at it, prepared to approach the angel who shot her, when a blow from behind caused her to fall to her knees beside Sabrina. The dagger buried in her back was blessed. She could tell from the molten burning it riddled her with. A scream burst forth as a thorn crown was also placed upon her head. A second arrow flew and buried itself in her chest. 

“When you have died, know this Earth was cleansed from an aura of Darkness such as yours.” The man spat before her and turned towards the rest of the witches. Samara fell to her hands as blood spilled from her lips. She looked upon her cousin’s face and rested a hand on her cheek. She could feel as the end approached. She could feel and see her Shadows fluttering about, waiting for direction. She bowed her head and rested it on Sabrina’s, eyes closed as she struggled for another breath.

When she was about to give up, fight leaving her, she felt it. The same presence that had accosted her at her Dark Baptism. The same thing that filled her and blinded her when Blackwood touched her in his office. She felt as it’s fury licked up her spine, the worry it clenched in her belly, the determination it set in her jaw. She felt as it shared its own breath with her. She felt as it shared its own power with her. She felt herself smile at the gifts it was bestowing upon her and sent it a short prayer of thanks. 

Her eyes snapped open to stare at her cousin’s still face. Everything was hazed in gold and blue. She felt raw power coursing through her veins. She placed her lips upon her cousin’s cooling forehead and whispered against the skin.

“It’s not your time to leave, my Sword. Rise and finish them.” The words danced upon the girl’s skin. Samara watched as Sabrina’s eyes snapped open, no color to be seen but a glowing white. Samara knew that if she could see her own they’d be glowing the blue of hellfire.

She watched as Sabrina rose into the air and extended her arms towards the angels. Samara stood below and behind her cousin as she continued.

“That’s enough. I offer you a chance to survive the night. Convert, Hunters.” Her voice was not her own. Filled with the power and strength she now possessed, it sounded like dozens of voices combined to one. With a wave of her arms the angels were forced to kneel.

“Take Lucifer Morningstar into your hearts, and I promise you mercy. But you must say His prayer. O’Mighty Dark Lord, by whom all things are set afire….” She waited for them to repeat her. 

“Never.” Samara glared as the man spat. She felt satisfaction fill her at the shocked gasps and awe as Sabrina’s hand became fire.

“Say the prayer! It’s your one chance. Come on! Say it with me or you’ll burn in Hellfire.” Sabrina warned. Samara had a dark wicked smile curl on her face as she saw the angels’ resolution crumble and they began to repeat her cousin.

“O’Might Dark Lord, by whom all things are set afire. Thy power be thy path. Thy will be my desire. In Hell as it is on Earth. Praise Satan!” The prayer was finished with horror and fear fixed on the angels’ faces. Samara clapped and laughed.

“Well done. But my, how quickly you turn on your False God.” Samara drawled as she slowly walked towards the kneeling angels.

“Neither one of you is a witch. What are you?” The man breathed in fear.

“I am the Dark Lord’s Sword!” With Sabrina’s declaration she caught them up in Hellfire. Samara grinned at the action as the witches around them shrieked in fear. Samara glanced at the dead witch on the floor with her throat slit.

“Arise, Sister!” Samara shouted, her hands extended towards the fallen woman. The witches around her jumped as the dead woman gasped and began to sit up.

“Arise, Brother!” Samara did the same to the man laid on the floor, his throat slit too. Again those around him jumped as he sat up.

Sabrina floated down to join Samara on the floor, both their eyes still glowing. They clasped hands as the other got closer. 

“‘Brina? ‘Mara?” Came the shocked voice of Harvey behind them. Both girls tilted their heads as one to look at the mortal behind. 


	7. Lotus and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath and revelations

Samara trailed behind Harvey as he jogged with Sabrina in his arms. The rest of the Coven followed close behind. Samara’s eyes still glowed with otherworldly power and the thorn crown still adorned her head. She had since ripped the arrows out of her abdomen and chest. Blood trickled out from the closing wounds. The blessed blade protruded from her back. Harvey had been too caught up in Sabrina for Samara to have him remove it. They were quickly approaching the Academy so Samara would just have someone there pull it out. 

“What the Heaven happened to her?” Nick was the first voice they heard as Harvey and Samara entered the Academy. 

“Where’s her Aunt Hilda?” Harvey didn’t answer Nick’s question. Samara didn’t pause and continued towards where she felt like she was being pulled. Something needed her.

“The dormitory.” Nick finally noticed Samara as she continued towards him. He saw the blood and thorn crown first. He rushed forward to help her. Just as he went to grab her arm for support, he froze. Samara’s unnatural eyes snapped to him before he could touch her. Fear froze him at the power and rage that filled them. He lowered his hand and simply watched as she glided past him. Worry swirled in as he spotted the dagger standing out of her back. He followed close behind her, hovering in case the power that coursed within her failed and she collapsed. He barely noticed the rest of the Coven following them.

“Ms. Spellman!” Harvey yelled as he carried Sabrina in. Hilda’s already sorrowful face dropped even further.

“Put her there!” Hilda pointed to one of the beds. Her tear filled eyes spilled over as she took in the sight of her other niece. Her gentle, sweet niece that had gone through so much looked a mess. Blood streaking her face, staining her clothes and a thorn crown upon her head. Her heart broke for her little family. “Dear Satan, I haven’t patched Ambrose up yet.”

“Samara, darling, lay down on the bed beside her. I’ll get to you when I’m done with your cousins. Okay. Okay. Thank Lucifer she’s not bleeding as much as her cousin. Okay, the arrows I’m gonna have to leave it in until I can get Ambrose on the mend.” Hilda sobbed as she looked at her still, fair-haired niece on the bed before returning to her nephew.

Samara felt like she was in a bubble. A bubble that was filled with crackling power, warmth and strength. But the outside world was hard to focus on. She knew there were people talking around her, she could see them moving. She just couldn’t hear them. She could see her Aunt Hilda go back to still bleeding Ambrose while Sabrina laid on the bed before her, still and unmoving. 

She approached her female cousin and stared down at her. The arrows still protruded from her chest and the cuts left behind by her thorn crown oozed. Samara knew she could help her. Make the stillness full of life; put breath into her lungs.

Samara quickly ripped the arrows that had found their home in Sabrina, distantly hearing the shocked cries of some people around her. She ignored them and continued to do what she was compelled to. She placed her hand along Sabrina’s stomach and her other atop her cousin’s forehead. 

  
  


“It’s not your time to go, Sabrina. So come back to me. Come back to me.” Samara uttered under her breath.

She felt as what once gave her strength and power before fueled her once more. She felt that power flow from her, to her hands and to the body laying before her. It felt like hours before she knew she needed to stop. As she once again peered down at her cousin, she could see her wounds had closed and could see her chest rising and falling. 

With one cousin taken care of she turned from her and slowly walked to her other cousin and Aunt. She could see Ambrose’s body convulse under her Aunt’s hands. The angels really had done a number on him. A part of her wished that they’d kept them longer, to make them suffer by her hands for what they’d done. But Samara took comfort in knowing the Dark Lord had them now. 

She knelt beside Ambrose’s bed after getting between him and her Aunt. She knew Aunt Hilda was saying something but still couldn’t hear her. She still couldn’t hear anything. Samara placed both her dainty hands on his chest and began the instinctual healing she’d done with her other cousin. She could feel that Ambrose was teetering towards Death, and she worked to push her power into him, to heal what the angel’s had done to him. She could feel herself waver.

Just when she began to think she’d fail, she felt a hand place itself on her shoulder. White blonde hair filled her peripheral vision.

“I can help.” Sabrina’s words were simple yet crystal clear and the first things she’d heard since the angels had burned. Samara refocused her energy, now singing from what Sabrina was pushing into her. She watched as Ambrose’s heavily bleeding wounds slowed to a trickle, then to nothing as the skin knitted itself back up. She rested her head against his side as she finished mending him and heaved a sigh. She felt Sabrina squeeze her shoulder before a whisper hit her ear.

“You’re going to be okay but this is gonna hurt.” She heard her cousin’s soft voice before pain like Hellfire raced through her back. She felt her mouth open in a scream as sticky warmth trailed down her spine. Her cousin stroked a hand through her hair as she chanted the first sentence over and over again in her ear. However, her voice got more and more muffled until Samara could hear no more and felt like a puppet with cut strings.

  
  


Samara didn’t know where she was. Well, she could piece together that she was in a grove of somesorts. Vines, ivy and branches twisted around the perimeter of the small meadow. Light tried to pierce in from the heavy tree tops but could only streak through. The air was thick and heavy of an impending storm. She could smell it. 

Red chrysanthemums, calla lilies, blue and red salvia speckled the clearing before her. She had taken a step towards the red chrysanthemums when she saw what she was wearing. A thin, white sundress and barefoot. She shrugged to herself and continued towards her favorite flowers. She had just knelt before them when a sound disturbed her silence. Samara whipped her head around, trying to find the culprit. To her left, she found it. Or rather him. And she felt her breath leave her.

He had to be the most handsome man she’d ever laid her eyes upon. Black curls that shined much like her own, but his were uncontained. Crystal blue eyes that she could tell could be cruel, but held nothing but warmth and content now. Lips that were as quick to grin as they were to snarl. A lean and cut body that caused a fire to light within her. And his height. She’d never met a man so tall, were her thoughts as her head continued to tilt back as he approached her. Finally he stopped before her, her head fully extended back. She remained on her knees, a feeling of surety this strange man wouldn’t harm her.

“What a spectacle you’ve caused, my darling. I must confess myself impressed.” His voice was lilting and smooth. Samara felt something within her tremble in the best way. She blinked up at him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Confusion twisted inside her, frustration starting to take hold. The last thing she remembered was healing her cousin, pain and then passing out. 

The man knelt before her, coming down to her level. Not that he really was at her level, even kneeling he was still taller than her. He reached a hand out and stroked along her cheekbone before cradling her cheek in the palm of his large hand.

“We’re someplace safe. Where you’ll feel no pain. That was quite a number done on you, my darling. Even with my help and your cousin’s, it will take some time for you to be back to normal. You had already expended much energy forcing your way into the consecrated church, then to have that blessed blade in you. Tsk tsk, we’re going to have to work on your tactics, my dear.” He simultaneously soothed and scolded. Samara wanted to feel irritated at his attempted reprimand but was too busy reveling in the feeling of him caressing her face. 

“All that talking and you still haven’t told me who you are.” She sniped out, a smile curling the edges of her lips as he chuckled. He leaned down and plucked one of her red flowers.

“Such fire. Even now after all that has happened. Yes, you’ll be perfect.” The man rambled in that irritatingly perfect voice of his. Before she could protest his lack of answer he continued. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out who I am soon enough. Let me enjoy your company before you have to head back.” He twirled the flower around in his fingers before placing it behind her ear. He smirked at his work and trailed a finger down her jaw to grip her chin.

“There, a beauty for a beauty. It seems our time is up, my dear.” He tugged her slightly forward by his grip as he leaned towards her. He rested his lips upon her forehead and inhaled deeply. His touch was scorching, thawing ice she hadn’t even realized settled beneath her skin. Her eyes had closed in bliss.

“Soon, my Samara.” His words were whispered against her skin. She leaned back to ask him what he meant and blinked up at him. But when she opened her eyes, he was gone. As too was the meadow and grove and all the beautiful flowers. All that surrounded her was darkness. And she began to fall.

Samara jerked at the sudden feeling of weightlessness and sat up in her bed. She huffed in confusion and glanced around. She was in her room at the Spellman house. The moon was high in the sky and the stars sparkled beside it. Phlox was curled up at her hip, now staring up at her from her jerking them both awake. Samara stroked his head, smiling at her familiar. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and staggered as she stood. Her muscles felt stiff and she took a moment to stretch. She began walking towards the door to go downstairs when the mirror caught her eye. She stood before it and scanned herself.

Nothing seemed intrinsically changed but something seemed….off. Her hair was still the same, skin still the same, height definitely still the same. What was different? Oh! Her eyes maybe. Where once they were a sharp silver, now they seemed to cast a glittering blue. Maybe it was the light? She shrugged and continued on her way. As she carefully walked down the stairs, Samara could feel her Shadows close to her. Whether they were taking comfort in her being awake or making sure she didn’t do a header down the stairs, either way she was thankful. 

She could hear her Aunt puttering around in the kitchen area. Now that she looked around the house did look a bit of a mess from what she could see. Cups and plates were everywhere and a lot of the rugs throughout the rooms were bunches up and messed up. Aunt Zelda wouldn’t be happy.

“Auntie?” Samara called out as she rounded the corner. Before she could utter another word she was blindsided with two strong arms wrapping around her and lifting her up. She prepared herself to blast whoever was restraining her with raw power before she recognized the familiar scent. Ambrose. She went from resisting his embrace to wrapping her arms around him.

“Cousin. Thank Satan you’re awake. It’s been days.” Ambrose leaned back and peered down at her. Samara blinked up at him in confusion. Days?

“I was having the most lovely dream. I’m just glad you’re okay Ambrose. I was really worried for you.” Samara pouted up at him to which he chuckled and hugged her again. He was quickly shoved out of the way by their Aunt Hilda, who immediately wrapped her up in an equally strong embrace.

“Ohh, my darling Samara. You are never allowed to scare me like that again. Do you hear me? Breaking in to consecrated churches and getting stabbed with a blessed blade. Are you trying to send me to an early grave?” Hilda fretted, stroking a hand through her hair. Samara chuckled and shook her head, happy to have her family together.

“I’m fine now Auntie. Where’s Sabrina?” Samara looked around the room and couldn’t find her other cousin. Ambrose took a seat at the dining table and looked at them.

“She went out with some of her friends. Harvey said he had to show her something.” Aunt Hilda answered, pulling away from her and corralling her into a seat beside Ambrose. Instantly a saucer of tea and sweets were before her. Samara hummed happily and began to munch on them, just now realizing how hungry she was. 

“So would we like to discuss your new powers in healing and resurrecting the dead, dear cousin?” Ambrose questioned, crossing his legs and looking towards her. Samara shrugged her shoulders and dipped a sweet in her tea before nibbling at it. Aunt Hilda sat next to her and rested a hand on top of hers. Before Samara could give a reply, the front door slammed open and feet were stomping in. Samara tensed before she saw it was just her cousin and her 4 friends. She saw joy and relief flit across her cousin’s face as they made eye contact before worry and concern darkened it again.

“Auntie, Ambrose, Samara. There’s something we need to tell you.” Samara and her sitting party all perked up in attention. 

“What is it, my love?” Aunt Hilda tried to soothe her obviously worried cousin but Sabrina just shook her head.

“Harvey and Theo found something down in the mines. So they came to get me to check it out. What we found is thousands of years old. Who knows how old-”

“What was it?” Ambrose cut Sabrina off, never one to deal with suspense well. Sabrina approached Samara’s side and knelt beside her. She grabbed onto her free hand and stared into her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was grave.

“We found a prophecy. Crafted in mosaic in the wall of a mine. It’s old, really old. Which makes it all the more concerning, because I think it’s true.” Sabrina spoke low and soft. Samara’s brows wrinkled together, she squeezed the hand her cousin held.

“What is the prophecy then? It can’t be that bad.” Samara joked, but her cousin’s face still remained stoic. Samara felt a frown pull at her lips.

“It could be. It showed us together, like we were in the church. Me with white eyes, you with blue. Powerful both of us. And at the sides of the Dark Lord. It said that I am the Herald of Hell, to bring upon the Apocalypse and have Hell run rampant on Earth. And it said you Samara are to be beside the Dark Lord. To help him rule over Hell on Earth...as his Queen.” Samara felt the blood drain to her stomach, her mouth slack jawed. Silence rang as loudly as a train throughout the room. She stared into her cousin’s eyes and saw the truth that shown through them. She could feel deep inside herself at the truth that were her words. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Well, that explained a couple things.


	8. Mandrake's Shriek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thieving Mandrakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where we see a bit of Samara's darker side come in to play. There's some description of violence towards the end so skip that if it makes you queasy. Otherwise, enjoy! 
> 
> I'm almost finished with the fic. Writing last chapter 13 now. So far the chapter alone is already 6,000 words and I'm not finished with it yet. This work is actually the longest I've written so far, I'm assuming it's going to cap well over 40,000 words. Which is a really big accomplishment for me. So thank you to every one that's reading, commenting, leaving kudos and bookmarking!

Samara liked to consider herself strong. She had survived her mother’s abuse. She had lived through Blackwood’s unwanted advances. But she was able to admit that she had one teensy little flaw. She liked to run. When the world got too much, Samara would flee to a safe place. Some people could face their problems head on, but more often than not, Samara couldn’t. Perhaps that’s why she had her Shadows. They could fight for her when she herself just couldn’t. 

So after her family had caught her up on everything she’d missed during her little snooze; like Sabrina restoring Roz’ vision, Sabrina doing magick without spells or runes, and all that they had done during the angels’ visit. Samara had waited for everyone to leave either to their homes or their rooms and then she’d gathered Phlox and teleported to her little cottage.

The minute her feet landed in her sitting room, she’d collapsed to her knees. Falling back onto her bottom, she’d wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face into them. Phlox had leaned his weight against her side and snuffled his snout under her arm and licked her cheek. Samara’s world zoned out and her only point of contact was Phlox. What could have lasted longer only lasted a few moments with Phlox’ incessant nudging and licking. Samara slowly raised her head and her hand played with the fur of his one ear. She tilted her head and rested her cheek on her knee. 

She felt as the same something as before began to fill her. Not the power, but the presence. The icy cold, overheatedness of her body drained and the achy tightness of her chest eased. Gentle warmth began to fill the emptiness inside her. She heaved a deep sigh, her eyes slipping closed. What felt like a finger trailed down the back of her neck to across her shoulder down to gently grip her upper arm. Content assurance tickled the back of her mind. Her eyes fluttered open, to see what she knew wouldn’t be there. 

Some disappointment filled her when she confirmed that she was alone other than her familiar. She could see her Shadows dancing along the walls, stirred up from her actions. She remained on the floor and simply watched as they flowed to a melody only they could sense. A brave Shadow skimmed along the floor until it could wrap around her ankle. Samara smiled softly and stroked along the skin it held, feeling the room shudder around her. 

As the moon continued to move through the sky, going down for it’s nap and the sun began to wake up, Samara reflected. During the discussions her family and friends had held during the night she knew that Sabrina was deeply unsettled by what had happened. And Samara did hold pity for her cousin. No 16-17 year old girl should have to worry about the things she had to. She deserved to fully enjoy her childhood, by having friends and learning as much as she could either at Baxter High or at the Academy. She should be worrying about lovers and parties and other frivolous stuff. But what she deserved and what she was dealt were two entirely different things. 

Samara knew her cousin, or at least she knew the version of her before Samara had left. She knew that Sabrina wouldn’t simply go along with the prophecy. She was too bound to the mortal world and her friends to let the Apocalypse happen. She knew that Sabrina would do whatever it took to make sure the Apocalypse was stopped. Something stupid and dangerous probably; but always with good intentions. And that’s what it was at its base. Good. Sabrina was wholly and intrinsically  _ good _ . Whatever higher being that meddled in the Dark Lord’s plans had been smart. Hard to bring about the Apocalypse when one of its catalysts refused to do it. 

Did Samara want to bring about the Apocalypse? Now that she thought about it, not really. She wasn’t overly fond of mortals but she didn’t hate them. Plus, she liked Earth how it was right now. But what really threw her through a whirl was the little royalty part. Her? Queen? The only thing she had dominion over was her garden and that was laughable at best. How did anyone expect her to rule over anything? Let alone people? Perhaps whoever had translated the prophecy had gotten it wrong. Her wrong at least. That had to be it. Why in the Heaven would Lucifer Morningstar want  _ her _ as  _ Queen _ ? The only thing she was exceptional at was potion-making and baking! 

Samara shook her head, realizing she was spiraling. The last thing she needed was to sit there and despair. No, the world had enough people that could wallow in their self-pity and confusion. She was a  _ Spellman _ for Satan’s sake! Maybe not in blood but in everything that counts. She was going to plan and plot, just like she knew the rest of her family was doing. She was sure her cousin was figuring out a way to stop the Apocalypse. So that’s what she’d do. In case Sabrina failed, she’d have a back up plan. 

So Samara picked herself up off the ground, dusted off her bottom and went to her workshop. Digging through her extra wares, she found the vial she was looking for and flicked it open. Taking 3 small sips of the minty concoction, she felt as her mind cleared and began to focus. It was time to put her brain to work.

  
  


After what felt like days but were really only hours, Samara resurfaced to reality. She had a tentative plan. While it wasn’t something that her cousin would concoct full of bravery and blatant flourishes, it could work. She hoped it would at least. She also sort of hoped that it wouldn’t come down to her plan.

Phlox had spent his time waiting for her curled up across the room on the armchair he had claimed years ago. His dark eyes had watched her unblinkingly but Samara was used to his overly-intelligent stare. She stood up and approached him, stroked a hand through his plush fur.

“Thank you, my friend. For putting up with my antics and always standing by my side.” She had whispered before sighing. “I suppose we should head back before everyone starts to worry. My mirror has been pinging for a few hours now. I think they’ve noticed our escape.” 

She shouldn’t have been surprised by that honestly. The sun was just starting to descend over the horizon and exhaustion weighed heavily on her, depicting the time that had passed. Even though she had just woken up from such a long sleep the day before, she was still wiped. She made sure to pocket the rest of the invigorating potion she had sipped earlier. She had a feeling she’d need it today. Hopefully she could slip in the house unnoticed and take a nap before she announced her presence to the group.

She stood in the center of her sitting room and Phlox was quick to join her. She smiled down at him and then chanted her words to teleport. Landing roughly in her room at the Spellman’s house, Samara looked towards her bed wistfully. Just as she was about to step in its direction she felt her Shadows jolt in discord. Something was wrong. She looked around her and saw them crowding towards her door. The problem was downstairs then. She cast a longing look towards her bed before sipping her potion once again and slowly stalked out of the room. She could hear humming downstairs.

She rounded the stairs and followed the sounds into the botanical room, where Sabrina stood looking amongst the flora. She was wearing a plaid dress that Samara had never seen her in before. She continued to glance around and didn’t see what would’ve caused her Shadows to react so violently. She shrugged and approached her cousin.

“‘Brina?” The girl in question whipped around, sending a blinding smile her way.

“‘Mara! Where have you been?! I’ve missed you!” Sabrina exclaimed and wrapped Samara in a tight hug. Some guilt echoed throughout Samara at her cousin’s words, and she returned the embrace.

“Sorry, Cousin. I’ve just had a lot going on in my mind and I wanted to sort it all out. I’m back now though.” Samara reassured, stroking a hand across her cousin’s back. She felt the girl stiffen and pulled back in concern. To her shock Sabrina was glaring up at her.

“Are you though? You always leave! I needed you here and you left me! I was so scared and alone and I just wanted my Samara here to help me. But like always you were gone! Don’t worry, I have a way where you’ll never leave me ever again.” Sabrina spat out and her eyes began glowing white. Before Samara’s own powers or Shadows could even react she was engulfed in bright light and knew no more.

  
  


“Samara! Wake up. Come on come on come on. Please! Wake up!” There were voices shouting at her before she took a gasping breath and the fresh air flooded her lungs. She was freezing! Blinking her eyes open she saw drooping red columbine flowers beside her. Then her eyes refocused on the blurry figures behind them and saw the worried faces of her cousins.

“‘Mara! You’re okay but we have a problem. Come on, let’s get inside and warm you up.” Sabrina helped her twist out of the vines that surrounded her and get up. She looked around the garden in confusion. She didn’t remember taking a nap out there.

Her cousins were quick to wrap a blanket around her shivering frame and a cup of tea soon entered her hands, warming her. She took a sip as she assessed herself. She felt relatively fine other than being cold, and dirty apparently. She looked up into the anxious faces of her cousins.

“What happened?” Her voice was gravely and croaky. Samara coughed into her arm and looked at them. They both shifted uneasily.

“Well, in an effort to stop the impending Apocalypse, I convinced Ambrose to help me with the Mandrake conversion. And we were successful.” Samara’s stomach dropped, her cousin was now a mortal. Her Aunties were going to be furious. Heaven, she was furious!

“Sabrina-” Before she could finish, Sabrina rushed out words that took a moment to decipher.

“It worked too well and now the Mandrake has gone around trying to recreate everyone in my life into Mandrakes themselves. And she was successful with your Mandrake.” Sabrina hurried out and worried her lip between her teeth. 

Samara felt her breath leave her. The Mandrake was successful? She closed her eyes and tried to pulse out her magick to find Phlox. Her eyebrows furrowed when she couldn’t. Her eyes snapped open wide and she looked at the edges of the room. Sorrow ripped through her chest as she took in the shadows that remained still and static. Where were  _ her _ Shadows?! The companions she’d had since the beginning of time! What had saved her countless times!

“I’m mortal.” The words were whispered but seemed like a scream in the silent room. Sabrina collapsed to her knees beside her and gripped her arm.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’ll fix this.” 

“How can you? You’re mortal now too.” Samara mumbled, shooting a sharp look at her cousin. Sabrina bowed her head.

“We do have a plan to deal with the Mandrakes for now at least. We’re going to have an old-fashioned duel. Pistols and everything.” Ambrose tried to soothe. Samara stared down at her tea, her thumb rubbing up and down the handle. Her brain whirring as her heart continued to shatter in her chest. Unlike before, her soothing presence didn’t come to her. Instead she remained alone and desolate.

“With powers like we have….had, they need to be killed. So we’re cheating at the duel. Pulling early. I’m sorry to ask this of you but I can’t face them alone.” Sabrina explained, tears pooling in her eyes. Samara glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and gave a small nod. Ambrose and Sabrina sighed in relief. They began to explain more of the plan to her but she listened with half an ear, her eyes instead intent on the corners of the room that remained still but should’ve been swirling with her companions. Nothing would ever be the same.

  
  


The grove where Sabrina was born held an eerie feeling as the three cousins entered it. Or maybe it was just as normal as it had always been, just now Samara didn’t have the powers to protect from the bumps in the night.

Two figures stood at the stone in the middle of the clearing. They became clearer as the group of 3 approached. As they stopped at the stone, Samara found herself looking into a mirror. Rather, a mirror image. Piercing silver eyes and flowing black hair. Had she always been that tiny? She just reached Mandrake Sabrina’s nose. Samara watched as her Mandrake’s eyes shot through with lightning in a display of power. Envy and sorrow shot through her again. Those were hers!

“Sabrina, Samara. You came. Did you bring the weapons?” Mandrake Sabrina asked.

“Yes.” Samara answered, her eyes glowering at her own Mandrake.

“And there’s no other way this can play out?” Her Mandrake sighed, shaking her head.

“I wish there were. For all of our sakes.” The real Sabrina answered as everyone took a pistol from Ambrose.

“The rules are this. You’ll turn your backs to one another, count ten paces. On ten, turn, shoot. May the best trigger fingers win.” The girls all turned their backs on one another, pistols gripped in their hands. Samara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then Ambrose began to count.

“One.” Step.

“Two.” Step.

“Three.” Step.

“Four.” Step.

“Five.” Step.

“Six.” Step.

“Seven.” Step.

“Eight.” Step.

“Nine.” BANG! BANG! The sound was deafening but Samara could still hear the gasp of pain and betrayal in her Mandrake’s voice. The shot Mandrakes both turned and looked towards the mortal girls.

“You shot early. That’s not fair.” The Mandrakes spoke as one before falling to the ground. Sabrina shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“No. No, it’s not.” She said and began running towards her Mandrake. Samara set down her pistol and kept her eyes on her gasping Mandrake. As she approached her Mandrake she could hear Sabrina soothing her own. Samara knelt down beside hers and looked into her eyes. She set both of her hands on the chest of the oozing Mandrake and leaned close to her face.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you. Something that’s mine. And you’re gonna give it back to me.” Samara whispered, her words laced with cruelty before she bared her teeth. It felt strange, to be pushing and pulling for magick that was no longer contained in her. But she could feel it swarming within this Mandrake. It reacted to her touch, trying to get to what was familiar. She looked into the panic wide eyes of the Mandrake as she realized what she was doing. Samara’s lips curled with a wicked grin before she plunged her hands into the collapsing chest of the Mandrake, another choked gasp leaving its lips. She grasped the heart before it stopped beating, its warmth and goo filling her hand. She kept eye contact as her grip firmed and she slowly pulled the heart from her chest. She raised the still beating, orange, organ into the air, and set it before her lips. Her cruel smile parted to reveal sharp, pearly teeth that eagerly bit into the pulpy mess. The Mandrake gave a screaming groan as Samara ripped off the piece in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. As the piece moved down her throat to settle in her stomach, the Mandrake stilled, breath leaving her lips.

Samara dropped the pulp in her hand onto the body below her as she stood. As she reached her full height she sighed in content. She could see them! Her Shadows! She could feel as her magick flooded her veins, stretching out along her body like a weighted blanket. She flexed her hands and laughed in delight as her Shadows swirled up her body, encompassing her in darkness.

“Sabrina! Samara!” Nick shouted as he ran into the clearing, a woman following close behind. Samara turned to look at the others. Her cousin still sat on the ground, her Mandrake in her lap. Ambrose stood before them, formerly soothing her other cousin. Nick and the woman looked out of breath and disheveled. Although Samara knew she looked a sight. Her Mandrake lay at her feet, it’s heart ripped out of its chest and bitten, she was sure her eyes were glowing and her Shadows blurred parts of her.

“Nick. Ms. Wardwell. It’s over.” Sabrina answered in a tear-choked voice. The two looked at them in horror. 

“Sabrina, that was the last step...to complete the prophecy.” Nick breathed out. Samara stared towards him as Sabrina turned.

“Killing yourself. It was the final perversion.” Ms. Wardwell chimed in as Sabrina’s face fell. Samara’s head tiled in interest, her new companions sending worried glances her way.

“What are you saying?” Tears still fell from Sabrina’s eyes but for a different reason than sorrow for her Mandrake.

The group besides Samara startled as lightning struck around them including the stone just behind them. 

“The prophecy is being fulfilled. The End of Days is upon us. The Dark Lord will walk the Earth in His true form. The Gates of Hell will open. And Samara will sit by his side and rule as His Queen while Sabrina, their Sword, will enact their will.” Ms. Wardwell answered in a grave voice. Thunder and lightning continued to strike around them. One final strike highlighted the faces of the girls and the roles they’d play. Eyes glowing. Menace on Sabrina’s face. A crown towering on Samara’s head. Anticipation soaked the air.


	9. Honeysuckle and Soaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunties learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more of a filler than anything. Still, enjoy!

If someone would have told Samara a year ago that she’d lose her magick, regain it by eating a Mandrake’s heart and learn that she was destined to be the Dark Lord’s Queen, she would’ve laughed herself sick and then sent that person to have their psyche checked. Yet, there she was, following her cousins and their friends, leaving behind the quickly decaying body of her Mandrake after having heard the prophecy was in motion. Samara nearly scoffed to herself about how unbelievable it all was but when had Spellmans ever lived through normalcy. Still, all this was insane! 

She could feel it though. Or rather, she supposed _ Him _ . Lightning still struck above but it was nothing compared to the electricity she could feel buzzing through the air. It seemed even the Earth knew what was happening. The Dark Lord had surfaced. She could tell. The way the world seemed to slow and tremble. The critters they passed in the forest were hiding and not because strangers were walking near their homes, but rather they could feel the power that had just emerged. 

“Aunt Hilda.” Sabrina called out as the group finally reached the Spellman house. Samara was the last to enter the kitchen, bringing up the rear of them. She was too busy reassuring her Shadows that she was okay, as well as sensing the changes the Earth was going through with the Dark Lord now walking upon it.

“And where have you been all night?” Aunt Zelda’s voice was sharp. Samara looked up and greedily took in the sight of her hard-headed Aunt. Perhaps she could help her make sense of all of this. She was relieved to see her, after hearing that she’d been placed under a  _ housewife _ spell. The knowledge of that just made Samara hate Blackwood even more.

“Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina continued to march towards their Aunts. Aunt Hilda was sitting down, concern written across her face. Aunt Zelda as always was puffing away at a cigarette, her nerves clear to see.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on, Sabrina? The trouble we’re in?” Aunt Zelda stressed, leaning towards the group. Samara weaved around the group until she was sitting across from Aunt Hilda and served herself some tea. She shot a soft grin towards her Aunts. Yet she was ignored as Sabrina continued to speak.

“Aunt Hilda, Aunt Zelda, listen to me for one second.” Their Aunt’s heads tilted towards Sabrina, showing their willingness to listen. Samara stirred in the sugar to her tea, snagging a sweet from Aunt Hilda’s plate. Not like she’d notice.

“Ms. Wardwell manipulated us into fulfilling a prophecy. One that’s meant to bring about the end of the world.” Sabrina’s words were quickly delivered and breathless. Samara nearly chuckled at her Aunt Zelda’s eye roll but resolved not to from the tension in the air. “Because of us, the Dark Lord has assumed His original form and is somewhere in Greendale. And the Gates of Hell are going to open, releasing the hordes of Hell.” 

“Sorry, all this is--This is all happening now?” Aunt Hilda’s shaky question filled the silence, her eyes wide and mouth hanging. Samara peered at her over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip.

“Now or very soon.” Sabrina’s tone was very stressed. Samara leaned back and let Sabrina and the others fill her Aunt’s in on what was going on. Now that she had her magick back, she didn’t really care what was going on. She wanted answers of course, but her cousin’s panic wasn’t a priority to her at the moment. Honestly, she was still quite peeved off about the whole Mandrake business.

“According to the prophecy I found, His plan is to enslave the tribes of human and witch-kind, and to rule over everything with His demon army.” Nick revealed, stepping to Sabrina’s side. Samara could practically feel the shock and worry radiating from her Aunties, like storm clouds.

“There’s more. Sabrina created a Mandrake that’s absorbed her witch powers. Which created a Mandrake of Samara that absorbed her powers as well.” Ambrose butted in. Samara almost huffed at her cousins not noticing that she was well and fully powered. Still she remained silent, a deeper part of her enjoying the chaos that was rolling through the room.

“All of them?” Aunt Hilda’s voice barely hid her despair.

“And that’s not even the worst of it.” Sabrina continued to hammer on. Her Aunts were instantly groaning.

“What’s worse than you being mortal?” Aunt Zelda spat. Samara hummed. She knew out of the entire family, Aunt Zelda would be the worst one to react to Sabrina’s newfound mortality. Sabrina remained tightlipped for a moment but before she could respond, Ambrose spoke for her.

“She is to be the Sword of the Dark Lord and enact His will. And Samara…..” Ambrose trailed off. The room’s attention shifted to the girl in mention. Samara had her teacup raised to her lips and was taking a sip. She peered at her Aunt’s as she did so.

“And Samara what?” Aunt Zelda spat out, her hands and jaw clenched. Samara delicately set her teacup down.

“And apparently I am to rule by His side, as Queen. Oh, and I’m  _ not _ mortal. I bit the heart out of my Mandrake and gained my powers back. So all good on that front.” She said lightly in opposition to how her Aunts reacted.

“How? Wh- Over my dead body. You’re both too young.” Samara felt like a cat that was being brushed the wrong way. Spikes trickled up her spine at her Aunt Zelda’s words.

“You’ll stand against the Dark Lord then, Auntie.” Ambrose’s voice was hopeful. Samara’s fists turned knuckle white on top of the table.

“To defend my nieces? Certainly. Family comes first. And the Dark Lord is not without His aversions.” Aunt Zelda’s words rang with newfound determination.

“Iron Spikes.” 

“Onions.” Aunt Hilda supplied, staring at Samara from across the table. Samara kept her eyes downcast, her teacup rattling softly from where it sat in it’s saucer. She shouldn’t be this upset with her family attempting to protect her. But their words against the Dark Lord filled her with rage. Why? 

Distantly she heard as her Aunt Zelda continued to bark orders on how to protect the house, but her mind was miles away. Why was she so angry with her family? Why did the thought of staying separate from the Dark Lord send a pang through her chest? In an even more private place in her head she asked the question she was most concerned with.  _ Why did the thought of being His Queen appeal to her so much _ ? She wanted answers. And she wanted them now.

“Samara?” A hand covered her still tightly furled fist. She forced it to relax and took a deep breath as she looked up into the concerned faces of her Aunts. 

“I know this is scary, but we aren’t going to let Him have you two. Don’t be afraid, my love.” Aunt Hilda assured her, squeezing the hand she held. Aunt Zelda hummed in agreement. Samara felt a frown curl on her face.

“But I’m not scared. That’s the thing. I’m confused. I have so many questions. And I want the answers, now.” Samara said, her Shadows flickered in the corners of her vision. Her Aunt's casted looks at her full of pity. Samara felt irritation lick up her spine. She looked away from them and screwed her eyes closed.

“What’s even worse is that, a part of me. A rather large part of me,  _ wants _ him, that, something. I don’t know! All I know is, is that the thought of staying apart from him hurts. I  _ have _ to figure out what’s going on. I don’t know who I have to talk to but I need to talk to someone with answers. You know as well as I that you can put up as much iron as you want, he’s still going to come. And I want answers by the time he gets here. Excuse me as I make a few calls to some of my clients.” Samara ground out before shoving away from the table and stalked up to her room. Her Aunts were frozen where they were, shocked by her outburst.

Samara threw herself down into the seat of her vanity. The sight that met her in the mirror shocked her. She was a mess. Her hair was a frizzy heap, no doubt due to the electricity in the air that night. Her clothes were disheveled and she had streaks of dirt painting her exposed skin. She heaved a sign, resting her elbows on the vanity edge and setting her head in her hands. She had a bad feeling that this was going to end in a mess. 

Peering up at her reflection once more, Samara made the decision to clean up before trying to find answers through mirror scrying her clients. Besides, a bath could help her mind kickstart into gear. She turned away from the mirror and walked to the bathroom.

She stared at the clawfoot bathtub that waited in the center of the room before shrugging her shoulders and snapped her fingers. Instantly the tub was filled with steaming hot water. At least her amped up powers were good for something. 

She turned away from the tub and began to shed her soiled clothing. Finally bare to the room, she turned back to the bath only to freeze. Where once, still, clear water filled it, now petals of honeysuckle covered the surface of the water. She slowly approached the water and peered into it. Seeing nothing nefarious hiding in the water, she dipped a finger into the hot water. After a minute of nothing happening she hummed and decided to take her chances.

As she sank into the scorching water, a deep moan escaped her. Her tense muscles relaxed as she leaned back against the wall of the tub. The pleasant scent of the flowers surrounded her and caused her to feel even more boneless. This was exactly what she needed after the events she’d had since she’d arrived at her former home. Sure, she’d taken brisk showers and baths, but it’d been a while since she’d really soaked for the pleasure of relaxing. 

She ran a finger over the top of the water, creating a break in the petals. Her mind, before seeming so frantic and spiralling, was now almost sluggish from the euphoria she was experiencing. She leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and her eyes slipped closed. 

At this point, there were two main points of actions she could take. She could either stand with her family. Help them play keep away from the Dark Lord. Help prevent the Apocalypse and find a way to send the Dark Lord back to Hell.  _ Or _ . She could accept the prophecy as it was. Help the Dark Lord bring Hell on Earth. Rule over the humans and witches. And stand by His side as Queen. 

She really did love her family. They’d taken her in when she had nobody. But there  _ had _ to be a reason that she was chosen to become His Queen. She was sure that was a decision not made lightly. Samara decided to not make a choice just yet, not until she knew more. 

Her eyes blinked open as a chill wracked her, not from the water cooling; which with her powers she was keeping it at a nice skin melting temperature. No, the chill was from a familiar presence rushing through her. It didn’t linger though. It shuddered through her from head to toe before departing. She looked around the room and found nothing out of place before she realized the honeysuckle petals were gone and now red tulips were in their place. She hummed as she pinched a petal between her fingers and lifted it to her eye level. She placed it against her lips and inhaled, a small smile gracing her lips at the scent and softness before she dropped it back to the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finished this fic! Just completed chapter 13 earlier this week. Now, all that's left is editing. Let me know what you guys think!


	10. Violets and Yarrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings.

Samara slowly descended down the stairs, her hand trailing along the railing. Her brows were furrowed in frustration. She had just finished scrying with any of her clients that might have provided any answers. All of them were useless. Or rather clueless. She didn’t give intimate details but the basis of it was that none knew about the prophecy, let alone the Dark Lord wanting a Queen.

As she entered the kitchen once again, the sight of her family in disarray made her pause. Sabrina was the only one sitting, tear stained cheeks now dry. Her Aunties and Ambrose surrounded the table.

“Well I say. Not today, Satan.” Sabrina spat, causing Samara’s frown to deepen. She continued forward and stood beside Ambrose.

“What’d I miss?” She asked as everyone turned to look at her. Sabrina heaved a deep sigh.

“Basically my mother and father struck a deal with the Dark Lord to have me. Turns out my dad isn’t really my dad. The Dark Lord is. And he wants me to open the Gates of Hell this evening. Oh! And Nick fulfilled a favor from the Dark Lord by making sure I’m in this exact position.” Sabrina gave a very abridged version of what was going on. Samara felt her jaw drop. Before she could respond, Ms. Wardwell, who was actually Lilith, entered the room. Their attention quickly shifted to her. She glanced at them all before settling on Samara.

“Samara Spellman. The Dark Lord requests your presence. If you’ll come with me.” She gestured towards the door. Samara cast a look towards her family. They all wore nervous expressions. She turned towards the woman and began to follow her out of the house. She felt Phlox beginning to follow but sent a pulse of magick his way, letting him know to stay in the house. She felt his irritation with her but he did as she requested. 

As they exited the house, Lilith grabbed her wrist and then they were teleporting. They landed in a sitting room of sorts. Samara didn’t even stumble as they landed, surprisingly. They took a seat in the plush armchairs in the corner of the room. They remained silent. Neither one knew the other and therefore had nothing to converse. Samara knew this woman wouldn’t give her answers. The only one who could was behind those doors.

“He’s ready for you.” A young man announced as he opened the doors. Lilith rose to her feet and escorted Samara into the room. They shared a final glance before Samara approached the railing before her. 

She looked down into the room. An obscene amount of food laid sprawled across a large dining table in the center of the room. Only two chairs sat at the table, one of which was occupied. Samara felt like the air was being stolen from her lungs as she looked down at the figure. Her grip on the railing in front of her tightened as she took him in. The back of his chair was to the roaring fireplace so the lighting wasn’t the best. Her magick was going nuts! It was zipping through her body like a tornado. All reacting to the man sat down there. Her body shivered as he spoke.

“Welcome, Samara.” His voice was like silk and so very familiar. Her brows furrowed as her mind began to whirl. With a flick of his fingers the vacant seat to his right moved back in invitation. She set her head high and began descending the stairs to her left. As she reached the bottom one, his features were finally in view enough that she could trace them with her eyes; which widened in response. This was the man she had met in the clearing in her dream! Although this time he wore a velvet red shirt, she saw in disappointment. She was a little pleased that the shirt still exposed most of his upper chest though. Without her eyes leaving his figure, she sat primly in the seat he had moved. Before she could settle, his fingers twitched and she was being tucked into the table.

“We’ve met before.” Her voice was soft and she saw as his nose flared and his eyes drank her in. They continued to flit over her face and whatever wasn’t covered by the table. She shivered slightly from the intensity.

“We have.” He answered succinctly, his head bowing slightly, his gaze still unwavering. Samara’s eyes darted over all she could see of him, her hands balling tightly in her lap. Her magick had been buzzing louder and louder the closer she was to him. 

“In a dream. Right after I was dying.” At her uttering of her almost death, his face twitched and his gaze hardened. He leaned towards her as he spoke.

“Believe me, my darling. You were in no danger of death. Nor will you ever be if I have any say in it.” His voice was low and certain. She tilted her head in interest. Since when was the Dark Lord so involved in the life or death of one of His subjects?

“You must know I have questions.” At her statement, his eyes glittered in amusement and he leaned back in his chair.

“Thus why I’ve had this feast spread before us. Eat, I will answer whatever puzzles you.” He gestured towards the frankly ridiculous amount of food on the table. Finally Samara broke their mutual stare and glanced around her. Before she could start picking through the closest items onto her plate, the Dark Lord had snapped his fingers and her favorites were filling it. Happily, she noticed as dark wine filled her cup. She delicately held the glass in her hand and sipped from it, the light, floral liquid swirling in her mouth. She hummed with content at the flavour, her eyes slipping shut. Wine was always her alcohol of choice. 

“Seems a bit excessive for just the two of us. Are you expecting more company?” Samara asked lightly, the rim of her glass raised to her lips once again. His brow quirked at her question, his fingers drumming on his arm rest.

“Are you not deserving of such splendor?” 

“I don’t know. Am I?” She countered, nibbling on a piece of bread. She heard him huff a soft laugh.

“My future Queen is deserving of anything She desires. Forgive me if my initial want is to provide the best for you.” He snarked, the corner of his lip twisting in a smirk. Samara’s eyes narrowed, and she tipped her glass towards him as she gestured.

“Then your future Queen wants the truth. I know you can answer all of my questions but I want them all answered with honesty. If you can’t extend even that courtesy then expect to remain alone until you can.” He grinned at her boldness. She knew not many, if any, spoke to him like she had. They were all too fearful. She supposed she should, but Samara was over being afraid. Her hunger for answers was too powerful.

“As you wish.” He bowed his head slightly. Samara felt her brows raise. That was much easier than she had expected.

“Okay….Right, then. I suppose the most obvious is, why? Why would you pick me to be Your Queen? I have no experience and very little desire to Rule.” Her hands, now free of objects, fiddled with her sleeves. She heard him hum as he considered his answer.

“I Chose You. There’s little more explanation than that I’m afraid.” His response caused her brows to furrow and nose to wrinkle. She cast a sharp look up at him.

“That’s an awful explanation. What does that even mean?! You Chose me? What? Why? I don’t come from money, or-or a place of standing! My mother was a potion-abuser and came from little recognition herself. She was a hateful woman and died alone, no one to mourn her death besides me! My father--I don’t even know who he is. But I’m sure if he came from a family of high standing they would have at least said something! I’m a nobody! I’m nothing.” Her speech began loud and firm but towards the end her voice softened, eyes beginning to glisten. 

“As far as I know, I’m an orphan with a chosen family that likes to cause more trouble than anything. I run a little Apothecary and own a cottage in Colorado. My best friend is my familiar. I have absolutely nothing to offer you. So please, tell me. Why me?” Her voice quivered as she spoke. Her eyes downcast, watching her fingers as they played with her sleeves. 

She felt a breeze tickle along the back of her neck that caused her to glance up. The Dark Lord now stood at her side, a hand extended towards her. His eyes were blazing like Hellfire housed inside. Tentatively she placed her left hand into his right. His large hand comfortingly engulfed her tiny one. Her magick that had been frantically buzzing throughout her froze. He tugged her out of her seat and stood close. Her head was tilted back far as she stared into his eyes. She felt the air displace behind her, and with a quick look the table, chairs and food were now missing. The middle of the room was now empty. Faintly she heard footsteps and doors closing as the room was vacated besides the two of them. 

He led her to the center of the room, his silence causing her chest to tighten and her throat to clog. As he stopped, he raised his other hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. As he pulled away, something remained, and out of the corner of her eye Samara could see a violet flower. Her breath came to her a bit easier after that.

“You are not, nor have you ever been nothing. I Chose You, not because of your birth or heritage. Your mother and father were nothing, that you can be certain.” He began, her left hand he had in his grasp, he settled on his right arm. He firmly settled his right hand on her waist, clasped her right hand in his left and tugged her closer. Then he started to sway to a tune only he could hear. Samara, none the wiser, easily followed his lead.

“I felt it when you were conceived. All my years of living and I had never felt such a thing. I could never explain it but I knew that whoever it was, was meant to be  _ mine _ .” At his last word, he pulled her even closer, his swaying now turning into steps as he led them to dance she instinctively knew. “I found your mother easily. She often struck deals with me. Her fear of living made it fun to toy with her. I knew she would never be a fit mother. So as you still laid in her womb, I gifted you. They reside with you still. My future Consort had to stand out from the rest afterall.” 

“My Shadows.” She breathed, enraptured as he weaved his tale. She didn’t notice how she’d never misstepped during their dance, her movements easily matching his.

“Precisely. I knew I couldn’t interfere with you. That you had to grow on your own without My influence. So I gave you a gift that could protect you even when I wasn’t there. And they did. Your mother died a coward’s death. Your father too. He died after selling out his Community to witch-hunters. He was nothing more than an ingredient collector for a well known Apothecary. They both reside within my realm, suffering as is their right.” He affirmed, his blue eyes sparkling as he twirled them around the room. Samara’s eyes never leaving his.

“I watched as you grew with the Spellman’s. I watched as you blossomed into a beautiful, powerful young woman. Then Blackwood caused your confidence to crumble. He will be dealt with, my darling, rest assured. I watched as you collapsed into yourself and then you ran. I wanted nothing more than to have you at my side, to show you that here, nothing can touch you. I won’t let it.” His left hand released her right, which she placed on his chest. He used his free hand to trail a finger across her cheekbone, to cradle it in his large palm. Her eyes slipped closed as he did so, their steps still swirling around the floor.

“I knew, as mortal as it is to say, that you were made to complete Me. And I You. Don’t you feel it? Something in you has awoken. It has filled a part of you that you never knew even existed. It is why your magic reacts so strongly to Me and My presence. And Mine to Yours.” His voice had taken on a slight pleading quality. Her eyes snapped open to peer into his.

“I knew I had to have you as my Queen. So I gifted you. Your Shadows. The powers that you’ve had since the defeat of those angels. Everything I have done for you. So that you can thrive by my side and Rule. I wanted this Earth to tremble before you, every being upon it Our subjects. I still do. My only question is do you?” At his question Samara worried her lip between her teeth. His thumb slipped down to gently tug it from its prison. 

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about Ruling or being a Queen.” She confessed, her eyes darting back and forth between his own. Her hand on his chest softly rubbed at the material beneath it.

“I will show you. You have no clue how much you already know. How you place strangers beneath you and will over them. Yes, you will need work in standing against your family’s ire but worry not. You will be at My side and I at Yours. Anything you desire I will have at your feet. You need only ask. Say yes.” He spoke softly, his voice earnest, the hand on her waist slipping around behind her, to settle on her back. His breath ghosting over her lips. She gathered her confidence before she responded.

“I will say yes to being Your Queen. However, I will not Rule. Not yet. There’s still so much I don’t know. But I can’t deny how right it feels to be here, with You.” Her answer momentarily threatened to cause a frown to form on his face, but after a second a grin grew. He halted their dance, the fire light highlighting the genuine joy he held on his face. Samara was sure her expression looked the same. 

“Then please allow me to do this.” He breathed and leaned closer, pulling her flush against his tall body. Samara’s hands gripped at his arm and twisted in his shirt.

Finally his lips brushed against hers. Once, twice, three times. At the third time he hummed contentedly. His arm wrapped around her waist keeping her flush against him, his hand cradling her jaw slipped to the side of her neck and tilted her back even more. She gasped as he nipped her bottom lip. He was quick to invade, his tongue exploring hers. A soft moan built in her throat as he continued, taking what he wanted. As oxygen began to become a problem for her, he pulled away slightly. His lips now trailing from the corner of hers, across her cheek, her jaw and down her neck. Soft little kisses that had flames licking up her back and settling in her belly. Her gasps and heavy breaths echoed around the room as she stared up at the ceiling. Her hand left his chest to climb up and tangle her fingers in his silky hair. As she tightened her grip, a groan escaped him. A smile built upon her swollen lips as she began to tug his hair lightly. That smile was quickly wiped away, a pout in its place when he began pulling away. 

A chuckle left him as his pupil-blown eyes devoured her. His gaze kept darting towards her lips. Her hand had slipped from his hair as he stood to his full height and she slid it down his neck to again rest it against his chest. Her fingers splayed against his thudding heart and stroking the exposed skin there. He huffed a breath before darting down and enveloping her lips with his twice more, in stealing little presses.

“Just as addicting as I feared. How will I ever manage to get anything done with you around, my little flower?” His voice was raspy as he spoke. Samara felt the flames flickering inside her fan up at it. She quirked her lips at his question though.

“You? You’ve had who knows how many millenia to practice. What about me? How will I learn anything from you, when you’re so You!” Her exclamation held laughter in it. She watched enraptured as he craned his head back and laughed deeply. His eyes crinkling in the corners as he looked back down at her again.

“We’ll learn together then.” He stroked his thumb along her jaw causing her to hum. She blinked up at him, her hand coming up to rest around his wrist.

“I still have questions.” She felt him heave a deep breath, the mirth leaving his eyes, leaving content in its place.

“I still have answers. But after. You must go and prepare. Tonight will be Our glorious ascension. Your coronation will have all the aristocracy of Hell. Then we will dance the Mephisto Waltz for all to see. After is when I’ll answer anything you might have.” He grasped the hand, gripping his and brought it up to where he pressed soft lips against her knuckles. Eventually he stepped back, releasing her from his grip besides the hand he continued to hold. She squeezed his hand before stepping back herself. 

“In the meantime, while you prepare, Sabrina will be opening the Gates of Hell for me. Then she too will join you in preparing for the Coronation. There she will be announced Our Sword.” He explained, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. Samara hummed once again. His gaze softened as he looked her over again. 

“I will be seeing you this evening, my darling. Safe travels.” 

“See you.” She whispered before closing her eyes and teleporting to her room at the Spellmans. One of the biggest benefits to her new powers was the ease of teleporting. Now she no longer felt like she was squished and ripping apart. Now she just appeared where she wanted.

She walked forward and fell into the bed, her face buried in her pillows. She felt Phlox stalk up the bed to curl against her hip and laze there. She lifted her head out of the pillow and rested her cheek against it. She kept her eyes closed and just immersed herself in what she was feeling. 

Lucifer was right when he said something in her had been awoken. Not just her powers but perhaps it was that very same night it had happened. She could feel where she was full now, when before she didn’t even realize there was something missing! Either way, since her meeting with him, her magick had never felt so calm, so settled. 

She still had an undercurrent of worry. However now it was much less. At his reassurances she had calmed. Instinctually she knew he’d never let her fail in a catastrophic way. She also knew that everything he’d uttered during their meeting had been true. The Father of Lies hadn’t lied to her, not even once. 

So, deep inside in a part that was only for her and him, she began to wonder. Wonder what it’d be like to be His Queen. What life they’d lead. She knew he’d treat her well. She also knew, somewhere deep down, that she had the power to hurt him if he didn’t treat her well. Still, she continued to wonder about him and her and the future. Their future. Sure, she still had questions pertaining to that future and how Sabrina came to play the role that she was, but Samara rested easy in the knowledge that he’d give her the answers she wanted after that night.

She glanced at the clock on the wall beside her and decided she could stand to nap for a couple hours before starting to get ready for her Coronation. And really, how odd was that to think of. She shook her mind clear of the thought and settled into the bed, Phlox’ head resting on her lower back. She hummed as her eyes slipped closed. Unconsciously her brows furrowed as she felt a spark of rage ping through her chest before it was banished from her mind and she slipped into a gentle sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?! Well, I figured since I'm done writing I can speed up the updates. Enjoy!


	11. Spearmint and Oak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of poison before the ball. No big deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that from here on out everything will be wildly AU and deviating from the actual CAOS script.

Samara blearily blinked around the room as she woke from her nap. She still laid sprawled across the bed, now on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Phlox had disappeared sometime since she’d closed her eyes. Sending out a pulse of magick, she sensed him weaving through the house, exploring. 

She arched her back in a stretch, a pleased groan escaping her. As she collapsed back onto the bed she continued to stare up at the ceiling. Her fingers rising to run across her lips. She could still feel the press of Lucifer’s lips to hers, the way he’d cradled her body to his. She’d never felt like this before. Anytime she’d been interested in someone, her body reacted like she was drinking curdled milk. The touch of someone other than family often sent ice shooting through her veins. She wondered if that was Lucifer’s doing or something otherworldly.

Releasing a sigh, she sat up. There was no use in getting lost in thought. She had a Coronation to get ready for. 

She sat before her vanity and began getting herself ready. Her hair was simply brushed and left to fall in loose curls around her face and shoulders to cascade down her back. She kept her makeup simple and bright, only accentuating her eyes and swiping her lips in her customary blood red. She gave a small smile to her reflection before glancing at the time. It was still much too early to dress for the party. 

She soon found herself sitting with her family downstairs. She had heard Sabrina conversing with someone in her room as she’d walked down the hallway. Figuring it best to leave her cousin to her own devices, she’d continued down the stairs. It was soothing to listen to the bickering of her Aunts and Ambrose. Ever since she’d started preparing she’d had what felt like an elephant’s foot sitting on her chest. She understood why, what with not knowing what to expect and how her family was going to react. 

Her Aunts and Ambrose had started to ask questions about her meeting with the Dark Lord but she’d remained tight-lipped. So they’d started to converse amongst themselves and Samara simply let their conversations wash over her. She was sitting in one of the arm chairs, her head leaning against the rest and her leg crossed at the knee when chaos struck.

Prudence teleported into the sitting room, two unconscious girls held in her arms. They all collapsed onto the ground, Prudence sobbing.

“Son of Pazuza!” Aunt Hilda exclaimed at their sudden appearance. Ambrose set down the bottle he’d had in hand and rushed to the girls. 

“Prudence!” He crouched down with them, looking them over.

“Please, please save my sisters.” Prudence wailed, her hands gripping the girls’ arms. Hilda and Samara rose and began approaching them. While Aunt Hilda knelt down to assess the girls, Samara magicked her potion bag into her arms.

“What happened?” Came Aunt Zelda’s shocked voice. She hated being surprised. Samara could only imagine who much she loved this new event.

“Father Blackwood, he’s poisoned them. He’s poisoned all of them.” Prudence continued to sob. Samara sneered at the loathsome man’s name. She began pulling vials out of her bag.

“The entire coven?” Aunt Zelda’s jaw would’ve been on the floor if it could’ve. 

“Okay, it’s all right, love. I’m here now. Okay? I can take it from here.” Aunt Hilda tried to soothe the hyperventilating girl. Samara set the vials she’d plucked from her bag by her Aunt.

“You said all of them. Are they all dead?” Samara’s voice cut through the girl’s hysterics. Still Prudence continued to sob and grasp her sisters’ arms. Samara grit her teeth and snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face. “Listen! Are. They. All. Dead?” 

“No! They’re still alive.” Prudence broke out through her sobs. Samara nodded and gripped the girl’s chin in her hand. Prudence stilled as her eyes connected with Samara’s. Prey fear curled in her belly as she watched Hellfire make them glow.

“Your sisters will live and Blackwood will pay for what he’s done. Trust in me.” Her voice was low and full of promise. Prudence found herself nodding and while the fear still remained, her uncertainty faded.

Samara turned her focus onto Aunt Hilda. She pointed to the potions next to her.

“Force these to them. Give them 5 minutes and if they’re still unconscious give them the red vial.” Samara commanded, her Aunt nodding along and beginning her work. Samara stood and looked to her Aunt Zelda. “I’m going to the church and see what I can do.”

“We’ll come with you.” Aunt Zelda demanded, stepping forward as did Ambrose. Samara nodded and teleported to the church.

A horror scene awaited them. A majority of the Coven had attended the joining. Now all laid across the pews and floor. Desperate gasps and groans echoed around them. Some were twitching and others were still. Samara frowned as she looked at them all. Aunt Zelda and Ambrose quickly appeared at her sides, gasps of their own leaving them. Aunt Zelda staggered forward and continued to take them all in.

“What are we going to do, Auntie?” Ambrose looked to their Aunt for answers.

“We try to save as many of them as we can, of course.” Aunt Zelda answered, doubt lingering in her voice.

“We’ll save them all.” Samara stepped forward, determination setting her jaw. She saw the look of disbelief her family members casted her. She knelt down by one of the collapsed witches. She set her palm against the girl’s forehead. Sending her magick through the girl and felt the  _ wrong, bad, sick _ poison that was coursing through her. Furrowing her brows she dug her magick like claws into the foreign body and began to rip it out. Without a thought she summoned a large vial and channeled the poison into that as it left the girl’s body. 

She leaned back onto her haunches as she finished, the vial now containing an innocent-looking clear liquid. The girl beside her released a gasping breath before settling. Samara could feel where the girl’s magick had before been pulsing sluggishly, now it swirled wildly with life. She stood and stepped back to her gapping family. She pushed the vial into her Aunt’s hand.

“I don’t have time to go to every single one of them and pull out the poison. I’m going to have to do them all in one go. Stay quiet. I can’t lose focus. Ambrose,” She paused, glancing at her cousin. He turned towards her, awe and disbelief still shining in his eyes. “Catch me if I fall.”

Samara left her protesting family behind her and moved to the center of the room. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling her Shadows flicker around her in reassurance. A small smile curled the corner of her lip before she cleared her mind. 

She cast her magick out like she’d done so many times before. Now she could feel the personal magicks of all the witches laying around her. She could feel her Aunt’s and Ambrose’s magick, strong with life and light; as well as the girl she’d already helped. The still unconscious Coven members’ magick still pulsed weakly, surrounded with  _ sick, wrong, help _ . Samara felt a frown pull at her face at the sheer amount of the sickness. She grit her teeth and sunk her magick into the wrongness. Then she began to pull. Quickly she realized that she’d need to use much more energy than she originally planned to. Tentatively she reached out to her Shadows, who were quick to reach back and flood her with their dark energy. Renewed with strength she pulled at the sickness even more, feeling as she siphoned the poison from their bodies and into the vial her Aunt still held. She continued to siphon until there was no more left. She could feel their magicks still weak but now replenishing as the poison was absent. They would be okay. 

She staggered a bit as she reeled her magick back into herself. Samara felt her cousin brace her, keeping her from falling. She sent a tired smile his way before turning towards her Aunt.

“They’re going to be okay. They might be unconscious for a bit as their bodies recover but they’ll be fine.” Samara stated, pulling away from Ambrose as she felt herself steady. She began walking towards her Aunt, taking the filled vial from her hands.

“Samara-what-how,” Aunt Zelda’s face was saturated in shock and awe. Samara casted a small smile her way and stepped back.

“We should teleport them to the Mortuary. They’ll be safest there. We don’t know if Blackwood will come back to ensure his plan worked. At least at the house I can cast a protection around the house so he can’t enter.” Samara suggested, stepping towards a group of witches. She saw the faint nods of her family before she turned to the group at her feet. Without setting a hand on any of them she teleported back to the Spellman house.

They landed in the sitting room where Aunt Hilda, Prudence and the other two girls still were. Samara quickly casted her magick out to check on the progress of the two girls. She noted that the poison was gone from their bodies, the Poison-Ridden potion Hilda had given them ate it away. Pulling her magick back into herself she met the stares her Aunt and Prudence were giving her. Giving a small smile to them she gave her reassurances.

“Everyone is okay. We’re teleporting them all here in case Blackwood were to go back to the church.” Samara felt amusement tickle at the disbelieving looks she got. She heard Ambrose and her Aunt appear in the other room with their own cargo. With a quick peek to make sure everything was going smoothly, Samara teleported back to the church.

It took about a quarter of an hour to get everyone to the Spellman house and situated. After that was all finished, Samara stepped out the front door and closed it behind her. Turning to face the wooden door, her mind whirled with ideas. She went through her rolodex of runes to decide which one she’d need. Figuring out which one she needed, she rested her hand against the wood. Closing her eyes, she pictured the rune in her mind and began to trace it against the door. She made sure to key it against Blackwood as she went. Opening her eyes again, she smiled at the light shimmer of a barricade against the door.

She brushed her hands off against her thighs as she entered the house again. Stepping over bodies, she walked towards the kitchen where her family was. She heard their low voices that made her pause just outside of the room. 

“It was like nothing I’ve ever seen! How she healed all these witches. The air was practically suffocating with her magick. I haven’t felt a presence like that from anyone besides…” Aunt Zelda’s voice trailed off. Samara felt pride zing in her chest.

“The Dark Lord.” Ambrose’s voice was grave. Samara’s brows furrowed at his tone. Why was that such a negative? With all that they already knew, if she were to be the Dark Lord’s Queen, why wouldn’t her magick be similar to his?

“I’m scared for her. This Queen business. These new powers. What’s it going to cost her in the end, hm?” Aunt Hilda asked. Samara felt a frown pull at her lips. Cost? It wasn’t going to cost anything! She’d had her Shadows all her life and they’d cost her nothing. They’d done nothing but protect her! 

“I fear for her too. She’s so young! We’ll do as we’ve always done and protect her. It doesn’t matter who, it never has. We’ll face down the Dark Lord himself. Neither of my nieces will be going anywhere.” She heard her Aunt Zelda swear. Samara glared ahead of her before huffing and turning to head back upstairs. She was passing by the sitting room and was stopped by a voice calling her name. She turned towards the room and saw Prudence sitting on the floor, holding her sisters’ hands in each of her own.

“I want to thank you. For what you’ve done. Not only saving my sisters but my Coven as well. I’m in your debt. You need only ask and I will be there.” Prudence vowed, her head bowed. Samara inclined her head in acknowledgement before turning to head back up the stairs.

She sat at her vanity, swiping the deep red lipstick onto her lips. Phlox sat on the bed behind her, staring at her with too-intelligent eyes. She ruffled her hair with a sigh before going to sit next to him. Absentmindedly she ran a hand through his fur.

“Tell me I’m making the right decision, Phlox.” He simply stared up at her. She sighed again, her fingers twined in his fur. “I’ve been stuck for so long. After Blackwood it’s felt like I’ve been trudging through tar. I just want to be happy. And I really think that he can give that to me. I do love the home we’ve made in Vail. But don’t you believe I could do so much more?” She fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Phlox crawled up to rest his head on her chest, his nose resting on her throat.

“I’ve never felt so right with someone before. So at home. I don’t know what it is but I just know that he’s exactly what I need, what I want. I couldn’t care less about the powers or-or the social standing. I-I just want him. Am I so wrong for wanting that?” Samara sighed out, her hands continuing to run through Phlox’ fur. Finally she sat back up, smacking a kiss to his head. “We’ll be okay, Phlox.” 

Feeling a breeze swirl around the room, Samara scanned it with her eyes. There, hanging off the floor mirror was a dress. Well, it was more a ballgown really. She quirked a brow, feeling her spirits lift at the gift she had received. 

She studies herself in the floor length mirror, her hands sliding down her torso to settle on her hips. Every inch of it was gold, not a strip of fabric in a separate color. The sleeves were sheer but solid gold at the shoulders. The neckline was plunging, almost reaching her bellybutton. The bottom was full and had delicate lace patterns of a darker gold. Her feet were adorned in dark golden flats. She’d never had love for heels.

A knock on her door broke her from her assessment of herself. She waved a hand and the door opened, revealing her Aunt Hilda.

“Ready, my love?” Her Aunt’s voice was unusually shaky. Samara cast a curious look towards her. Subtly she sent her magick out, feeling out her Aunt. For some reason nervousness and determination caused her Aunt’s magick to tremble oddly.

“Are you alright, Auntie?” Samara inquired, stepping towards her. She watched as her Aunt forced herself to settle.

“Of course! Now let’s not dally. We have a coronation to attend!” Aunt Hilda’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Samara narrowed hers slightly. Still, she reached out and took her Aunt’s hand as they left the room to head downstairs.

“Now, rather than just have the Coronation and be done with it, we’ve decided, to please Our Lord, that we’ll be having a masquerade. Your mask is down with the rest of ours.” Aunt Hilda babbled the news as they walked down the stairs. Samara could still feel the nervous energy swirling around her, so she remained silent. 

The family was gathered in the sitting room, all dressed to the nines. Samara felt the corners of her lips begin to curl up before her magick took in the frantic nervousness that was causing their magicks to lash around too. She took stock of all of them, her confusion growing. What could they all possibly be so nervous about?

“Ah, Samara. Quickly. Here’s your mask. Hurry hurry, we must be going.” Aunt Zelda snapped, a golden lace mask in her hand outstretched towards Samara. She felt herself wilt a little at the lack of comment on her appearance. Samara didn’t consider herself a vain person, but a compliment here or there was always appreciated, especially from her family. And now, to receive none at all on the night of a very big event? She was a little hurt.

Reaching out, she took the mask from her Aunt and quickly tied it to her eyes. Samara smoothed a hand down her hair, flicking it off her shoulder. She cast a quick look at her family around her.

“Let’s get going then.” She didn’t wait for their responses and teleported to the Academy. Pulling herself away from her family’s unusual height of nervousness, Samara could finally recognize the ball of anxiousness that had settled within her. It flipped back and forth between that and eagerness. Staring up at the building before her, Samara let loose a deep breath before climbing the steps before her. 


	12. Jasmine and Waltzes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited coronation.

Shortly after stepping into the academy, Samara was rushed through the main room to the top of the stairs above. There were many masked faces surrounding her. Apparently her family wouldn’t be the only ones performing, their guests would be as well. 

As she stood atop the stairs, her cousin dressed in her own beautiful golden gown joined her. Samara could still feel the nervousness thrumming through her cousin’s energy. She reached forward and grabbed Sabrina’s hand. Her cousin snapped a look up at her.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be alright. We’re right where we’re meant to be. You’ll see.” Samara comforted, sending a soft smile towards her cousin. Before she could get a response, two sharp claps resounded around them. Sabrina quickly began to descend the stairs as music filled the air. Samara let loose a sharp breath before following.

“ _ Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. _ ” Sabrina had begun the song, the skirt of her gown held in one hand as she stepped to the floor. Samara hummed along behind her, also holding her skirt aloft. For a brief moment she was afraid of tripping, but all thoughts left as she connected gazes with the Dark Lord sat before her.

Two thrones of bones and skulls filled her vision; Lucifer occupying one of them. Samara drank her fill of him. Throat and most chest exposed from the golden trailing coat he wore, she felt an intense urge to mouth at the pale skin and bite at the tendons she could see. She watched as he tensed upon seeing her, his chest beginning to heave. Samara could only guess it was because of the same desire flooding her. Feeling her cousin grip her hand, she continued on with their performance.

“ _ Masquerade. Hide your face. So the world will never find you. _ ” Samara joined with her cousin, their voices reverberating through the air. They continued to walk towards Lucifer, stopping just short of the middle of the room. Still, Samara and his eyes were locked onto one another. As his gaze began to roam her figure, she felt her skin shiver at the want held on his face.

“ _ Masquerade. Every face a different shade. Masquerade. Look around. There’s another mask behind you. _ ” Samara was twirled under her taller cousin’s arm as the music grew heavier. Their guests joining from behind them, beginning to file around the room. She felt a smile bloom on her face as she felt Lucifer’s energy pulse and slither towards her. She cast a glance at him, shooting her own pulse of  _ want, desire, mine _ . Amusement curled inside her at the quick quirk of his lips she received.

“ _ Flash of mauve, splash of puce. Fool and king, ghoul and goose. Green and black, queen and priest Trace of rouge, face of beast, faces! Take your turn, take a ride. On the merry-go-round in an inhuman race. Eye of grace, eye of blue. True is false, who is who? Curl of lips, swirl of gown. Ace of hearts, face of clown, faces! _ ” Samara and Sabrina continued to dance, spinning and twirling together and on their own. Their movements halted as their Aunts greeted them. Samara cast a grin to her Aunt Hilda as she felt her place a hand on her shoulder.

“ _ Drink it in, drink it up till you've drowned. In the light, in the sound, but who can name the face? _ ” The words were sung together as her Aunts departed from them. Samara’s lips still held a smile as she looked out amongst the crowd. 

“ _ Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds. Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you. _ ” Samara belted out with her cousin, the crowd matching them. The music once again turned soft and she reached back to unknot her mask.

“ _ Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies. Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you. _ ” Her voice softened with the music, her cousin matching. She dropped the mask off to the side as anticipation swirled within her. 

Pleased, her eyes followed as Lucifer stood, rising to his full height. He quickly met her with his long strides. His gaze was intense as he stood at her side, extending his arm. Samara sent a soft smile up at him as her hand reached up to rest her atop his. As he led them towards the thrones, she could see out of the corner of her eye the smug smile he wore; as well as notice how his face remained turned towards her. Her cousin trailed behind them.

He stopped before the rounded throne, the more angular one meant for him. His hand grasped hers as she sat, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles before letting go. She felt her cheeks heat at the gentle gesture. Sabrina stood at her side, her hands clasped in front of her, looking out at the crowd. Samara’s eyes tracked Lucifer as he approached Lilith, who held out a thin golden coronet. 

“As I place this coronet upon my daughter’s head, she is crowned the Herald of Hell! The Sword that will light Our path to Rule over Earth; to stop those that would stand in Our way! And with the greatest duty and honor, to defend and protect Our Queen. Sabrina Morningstar. My firstborn.” His words echoed around the now silent room, power flowing through every word. Samara felt as his magick settled the declaration into the void, a shiver racing down her spine at his power. 

Soft claps came from their guests as he placed the thin coronet upon Sabrina’s bowed head. He stepped back and gave her a nod as she looked up at him. She gave him a small curtsy and looked around the room.

Samara watched as he stepped away from her cousin, once again approaching Lilith, who now held a golden crown. Long, finger-like, golden tendrils extended far above the base of the crown. Her breath stopped as she saw it. Lucifer grabbed it and came back to her. She gazed up at him, a small smile curling his lips as he looked down at her. Her eyes slipped closed as he extended the crown towards her.

It settled firmly around her head. It was heavier than she anticipated, also a lot warmer too. As he removed his hands from the crown, Samara felt a feeling of finality swarm in her chest.  _ Yes, right, perfect, mine _ flitted around in her mind. Her magick, that she hadn’t noticed was flaring around her, settled; like a warm throw on a chilly evening.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting Lucifer’s above her. She knew from the tingly warmth that her eyes were glowing Hellfire blue. She watched in delight as his flashed the same shade, his power rising to meet hers. She felt the tingle recede and knew they were back to normal. He extended his hand towards her, which she quickly grasped. He helped her rise from her seat, joining him at his side. Her hand rested, grasping only the back of his as she looked up at him.

“Finally. My fiends and friends. I present to thee, Samara Spellman. Proud lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows, and Queen of Hell! Hail Samara!” Again, his voice echoed through the room, power lacing every word. Just as she felt with her cousin, his words were cast to the void and accepted. Her fingers tightened around his as his power washed over her.

“Hail Samara! Hail Satan!” Their guests chanted with soft claps. Acceptance swirled around her, as she looked out amongst them. Samara’s attention turned back to Lucifer, as his hand squeezed hers. He was gazing down at her, his face soft and smug.

“And now, My Queen, we shall dance, as King and Queen, to the Mephisto Waltz.” His words were quiet, yet still carried to their guests. A soft piano filled the air, his hand holding hers more assuredly now. He led her to the center of the room where she took one large circle around, her arm extended towards the crowd before being pulled towards him. Her dress flared as she was easily twirled under his arm, coming back into him with her left hand settling on his right arm. Memories of their dance in the Grey Room crossed her mind, their current stance identical to then. Although propriety denied them from holding the other as intimately as their previous dance; the space between them still crackled with  _ desire, mine, finally _ . 

“All this time spent waiting, and here you are. Finally, My Queen. I must say, I couldn’t be more pleased. I look forward to seeing Our subjects bowing before You.” He whispered down to her. Samara felt a grin tug at her lips, her head tilted back to look up at him. Their bodies swaying side to side.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed in my choice either. I look forward to learning from you, My King.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to breathe his calling against his lips. She felt him take a shaky sigh; want flaring in his energy. Samara’s lips curled in a smirk as he began leading them in a grandiose series of steps. 

“How long I have waited to hear those words pass from your lips. Now you use them to tease Me. My wicked Queen.” He sounded more than pleased as he twirled them around the room. Samara could hear their guests talking as they went. Her attention quickly turned back to him.

“Now that I’m Queen, I was wondering if you might give me something?” Samara asked, her tone light. This thought had been swirling around her head most of the night. Lucifer’s grip on her waist tightened as he looked down at her earnestly.

“What do you desire? Jewels? Silks? Palaces?” His head tilted as he listed what he could offer. Samara’s left hand ran up his arm to settle on his shoulder, her smile brightening at his attempt to please her.

“Give me Greendale. For my own.” Her eyes were wide as she gazed up at him, their swirls and strides never faltering as they went around the room. 

“Ah, yes. Protecting your family and friends I presume. I know what a soft spot you hold for them. Then you shall have them.” Samara felt the muscles in her shoulders relax even further at his assurance. There, she could spare her family and their friends now. 

They continued to twist around the room, the music starting to grow in pitch. She had just been twirled away from the center of the room, their hands leaving each other for the first time since she’d been crowned. She spun around until she was facing him again, a smile lighting her lips but quickly beginning to fade. Her feet were stuck, she couldn’t move. She looked back up at Lucifer, seeing a frown start to grow on his lips.

It was then that she realized that what she thought was idle chatter from their guests, was actually chanting of a spell. 

“Wait, what are they saying?” Lucifer looked around the room, beginning to walk towards Samara but was halted as some of the guests removed their masks and the rest vanished into smoke.

No doubt the naked panic and betrayal Samara could feel her body conveying assured Lucifer that she had no clue what was happening. She watched as he whipped around towards her cousin, a snarl on his lips.

“I told you what would happen if you defied Me again.” He growled out, rage sparking through him. Samara could almost taste it on her tongue. 

She struggled to move forward but her body felt like stone. A quick glance around showed her Aunt Hilda staring at her and chanting under her breath. Samara felt like her breath was stolen from her lungs, and her heart ripped into pieces. Tears began to cloud her vision. Her Aunt Hilda, the one person who was like a mother to her, was a part of this plan. A woman she trusted her life with, who raised her, who knew how she felt; was now doing this. Distantly Samara heard her cousin crowing about winning. Her eyes however never left her Aunt’s. 

Finally the sounds of metal scratching along the floor caused her attention to divert back to the center of the room. The acheron was skidding towards Lucifer, stopping at his feet. Samara watched in horror as he disappeared into it in an explosion of light and red smoke. She could still feel his rage and shock dancing along the periphery of her magick.

Sabrina bent down and picked up the acheron, it’s seams glowing red and white before settling down and dimming. Samara could still hear the faint sounds of her Aunt chanting and keeping her immobile.

“Well played, Spellman.” Nick’s impressed tone filled the quiet. Samara’s shock and heartbreak began to filter away, snuffed out by the ever growing fury building in her veins.

“Yes. Edward would have been proud.” Aunt Zelda said, stepping towards Sabrina. Slowly the group turned to glance at Samara.

“What are we going to do with her? We can’t just let her go, not after all this.” Nick asked, stepping towards her. Samara could see her Shadows pulse around the room subtly, feeling her rage.

“I will be performing a magick locking spell on her. It won’t completely confine her powers, just these new ones. And Hilda brewed something for her this afternoon, to wipe her memory of recent events. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.” Aunt Zelda’s words were strong, but Samara could see the conflict on her Aunt’s face. Not that she cared. She felt fear flicker to life in her chest. 

She could see her Shadows thicken, emboldened by her fear. Seeing the group beginning to approach her, Samara sent out a lash of power, letting her Shadows know what she wanted them to do. Quickly the room was engulfed in darkness as the swarmed. She heard bodies hit the floor as she stumbled back, now released from the spell her Aunt could no longer cast. She gathered her power around her, her fury making it swirl and storm around her. She knew her eyes were glowing again. But this time, she had no desire to tamp down the power she’d been gifted with.

“How dare you. I called you family. I once found a home with you. And this is how you treat your Queen? With deceit and maliciousness?” With a flick of her hand her Shadows receded to the corners of the room. The group still laid on the floor before her, the acheron once again in the center of the floor. She saw Ambrose point a hand towards her, no doubt trying to cast something. With another flick of her hand, he was stuck frozen in his spot. 

“I did request to preside over Greendale. To protect all of you. But now, I think I’ll just let it fester in the tragedy it is steamrolling towards.” Samara snapped, ignoring the disbelief on their faces. She extended her hands and the acheron quickly flew into them. She silenced their protests and shouts with a twitch of her fingers. Glancing down at the metal in her hands she was secure in the knowledge that her powers and Shadows would keep her safe from those around her. 

“I would’ve done anything for you. My family. I came back for you. I stayed for all of you. To help. To protect you. But it seems, my sentiments are not returned.” Samara whispered, keeping her eyes from meeting any of theirs. With a snarl, she squeezed the metal between her hands, funneling her magick into it. Feeling Lucifer’s power swelling, she felt relief take over; noting that the seams of the acheron were once again glowing red and white. A grin took over her face as it exploded once again, her magick protecting her from the blast. 

He appeared at her side, his power surrounding the both of them, a snarl curling his lip. She felt as he reached out and took her hand in his, intertwining them tightly. She stepped closer to him, angling her body into his. Her free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling his chest heaving in rage beneath her fingertips. His hand released hers as he curled his arm around her, gripping her waist. She felt as his power settled around her, like a shield, as he took in the group before them. Finally his glare turned towards Sabrina.

“You try and try to defeat Me. I am the Great Satan that no prison can contain!” His words were growled in dozens of voices at once, his hand beginning to extend towards her cousin. Samara felt worry flicker through her. Annoyance soon followed. It would seem instincts died hard. 

Heaving a sigh, Samara slid the hand on Lucifer’s chest up to settle on the side of his neck. The tips of her fingers played with the strands of his curls they could reach.

“Wait.” Her voice was quiet but firm. His eyes instantly zeroed in on hers, questions in his eyes. “Spare her today. Let them live with their failure. Let them live knowing that after going to all this effort, you can still walk the Earth free. Let them wallow in their self-pity and hatred.” Samara offered, watching as he quirked a brow, his gaze drifting back to the group.

“And why should I? Not only have they been traitorous towards their King. But they have betrayed their Queen as well! They were to seal off your powers and wipe your memory. So why should I not avenge Myself and My Queen?” His words were laced with his fury. But Samara, having become more in tune with him, could feel the worry and fear that arched through him. A part of her heart melted at feeling this. The all-powerful Dark Lord was worried for her. A small smile curled her lips as she once again met his gaze.

“Because then I’ll give you something you’ve always wanted.” His head tilted in interest as she spoke. His eyes speaking his silent question. “Me. Let them alone and I’ll go with you. Anywhere. Everywhere. I’ll follow you to Hell. Stand by Your side for as long as you’ll have me.” Her voice rang clear between them, the honesty shining through. She felt as his arm around her tightened, dragging her flush against his body. His other hand raised, cupping her cheek and stroking his thumb along the flesh there.

“Then prepare for Eternity at My side. I could never be rid of you, My Queen.” He breathed against her lips as he leant down. His hand slid down to cup her jaw and coax her head back. Searing lips met her own and Samara felt her previous tension leave her body. Her arms slowly twined around his neck as he continued to devour her lips. A quick nip to his bottom lip earned her a filthy grin as he pulled back. Samara peppered soft kisses down his throat to his chest as he stood back to his full height. Stepping so that her front was flush with his side, his arm still curled around her.

“It would seem Your Queen is a merciful one, for now. You are free to leave. However, depart with the knowledge that should you defy either one of Us again, your death will not be quick nor painless. Now, show your gratitude for Your Queen. For She is the only reason you leave here alive tonight.” Lucifer hissed towards the group. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the looks of disbelief and shock being cast towards one another. Samara rolled her eyes and played with the front seam of Lucifer’s coat, her fingers occasionally stroking over the heated skin there. She could feel him tense as she continued to gently swirl her fingers around the area.

“Sama-” Her Aunt Hilda began to speak but was cut off by Lucifer.

“Her Majesty, Dark Lady or My Queen shall be addressed correctly and with the respect she deserves.” He snarled out. Samara could tell he was done with the Spellmans and their antics. Honestly, she couldn’t blame him, so was she. 

“Dar-Dark Lady. Please. Come home. To your family. Where you belong.” Samara turned to look at her teary-eyed Aunt as she pleaded. Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head.

“Family? Family wouldn’t force me to do anything like what you all were planning. Family wouldn’t bind my magick. Family wouldn’t force a potion down my throat to forget one of the best moments of my life. Family would’ve listened to me and talked to me about their feelings and opinions. Not come up with a half-cocked plan with malicious intent. No. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. With My King.” Samara’s voice was strong and resolute. She watched as Hilda’s face fell, her tears flowing. Zelda was beginning to say something but Lucifer’s hand flicked, silencing her.

“That’s enough, I do believe. Now, shall we head home, my flower?” He looked down at her. Samara felt exhaustion begin to weigh on her bones. She nodded up at him. “Very well. Your Queen and I will be departing. Bow and show your respects.” He commanded, looking down at the group in front of them. 

Slowly each of the group either bent at the waist or curtsied; each with a soft, ‘Your Majesties.’ Samara felt as Lucifer began to gather his power to send them to Hell. A sparkle caught her eye and she squeezed his arm, stopping him before he could complete the teleportation. He looked down at her in concern. She patted his chest before stepping away from him. His power lashed out to her, worry and betrayal starting to leak in. She sent back her own pulse of reassurance and patience.

Sabrina’s eyes were wide as she approached her. Samara slowly reached up and carefully took the thin coronet from Sabrina’s head. She held it in both of her hands as she stared into Sabrina’s eyes.

“One day, you will realize what this coronet means. One day you will come to want it. And when you do, you will come to me, kneel and beg for its return. Then, you will be judged if you are worthy of such an honor.” Samara said quietly before turning and leaving Sabrina ringing with shock.

She gripped her smug King’s arm as she reached him, the coronet dangling in her other hand. She took one last look at the group before her, most of what she’d once called family, tears streamed down most of their faces. Tilting her head high, she raised her eyes above them, squeezing the arm she held. Once again she felt his power begin to swirl around them, preparing for the teleportation to Hell. She saw Hilda stumble forward, face awash with grief and hand outstretched before the teleportation took effect. The world around her faded, her only grounding being the grip she had on Lucifer.

Feeling her feet touch solid ground, she blinked her eyes open and took in her surroundings. They were in a massive throne room. Light from the large windows on the back wall cast everything with a red hue. She stepped away from Lucifer, spinning around as she took in the otherworldly room. Her mouth was agape, she knew. She could hear him chuckling behind her as she stared around in wonder. Feeling him grip her hand, she turned to look at him.

“Welcome to Hell, My Queen.” A grin lit his face as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A smile began to curl on her lips. 


	13. Amaryllis and Heliotrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is it. The End. More notes at the bottom. However, here's a warning for SMUT and GRAPHIC VIOLENCE! If it isn't your taste, please feel free to exit. The last chapter could also be considered a wrap up. Either way, hope you enjoy!

_**Warning of Smut and Graphic Violence** _

Had it really only been less than 24 hours that Lucifer had been able to walk the Earth in his angelic form? That Samara had slaughtered her Mandrake? Samara’s mind whirled at all the sudden changes that had happened in the past few hours. How could a day feel like a lifetime had passed?

She hadn’t been able to continue to admire the throne room as one of Lucifer’s servants swept her away. She was led to a door where she was told to freshen up. Apparently the coronation would need to take place again. 

Lucifer had explained quickly that since the aristocracy of his world were not present, the crowning was not valid. He’d gently removed the towering crown from her head, smirking at the pout she’d worn. 

Samara cast a longing look at the luxurious bed she saw as soon as she entered the room. The enormous thing was taking up a large portion of the room, covered in smooth looking silks and plush pillows. All she wanted to do was curl up in those sheets and sleep. If the strong, secure arms of her King happened to join her, then all the better. 

Heaving a deep sigh, Samara continued through the room to the opened bathroom. Taking a look in the mirror she suppressed a grimace. Her makeup looked great. Her hair on the other hand was a wreck. Her lips pursed as she ran her hands through her hair, smoothing down the flyaways. Her dress wasn’t wrinkled or crimped; she was pleased to note. 

She was slow to walk back to the main room, her feet carrying her to the bed. She gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, her hands splaying across the fabric on her thighs. Her eyes took in the room around her. She could tell that this was Lucifer’s room. If not by the sheer presence of his energy that filled the room, then the lingering of his intoxicating scent was what clued her off. Even just this little bit of him that she could sense helped ease her mind. Yet still her thoughts continued to spiral.

Perhaps she should have expected this outcome. She’d heard her family’s reactions to her newfound powers as well as the prophecy. She should’ve taken the clues. But it was her family; she never thought they could betray her as they did. 

Samara felt a shiver of fear race down her spine. They had planned on binding her magick, erasing her memory! Who in their right mind would do something like that?! She was familiar with the rituals for binding someone’s magick. There was no guarantee that only certain parts of the witch’s magick would be blocked; more often than not that witch lost their powers completely. On top of all that, Samara could guess the potion that Hilda had planned on using. There were only a small handful of potions that tampered with memory loss. All held the same cautions as the power binding rituals; there was no guarantee what memories were being erased. She could have lost everything. Her family was willing to risk that.

A Shadow wrapping around her ankle caused Samara to surface. Taking stock of the room she realized that everything was now cloaked in darkness. A small smile curled the corner of her lip. She wasn’t surprised to see all of her Shadows darting around the room; with them riled up from not only recent events but also the fear she’d felt from her current thoughts. She reclined back onto the bed, her legs still dangling from the edge. Her eyes slid closed as she sent out a pulse of reassurance to her Shadows. Almost instantly she was consumed.

Her Shadows flew around her, their physical presence like a whisper dancing over skin. They smothered her with their assurance. She felt the ball that had been settled in her chest unravel and fade away. 

Perhaps a more typical person would have been appalled at the messages her Shadows sent her. And maybe Samara had thought herself typical, but stepping back and checking herself now, she realized that she was wrong. What typical person would feel relief at the images her Shadows were showing her? Of Hilda and Zelda rushing at her menacingly, one holding a vial, the other holding a book of runes. Before they could touch her, her Shadows swirled up their feet, legs, torsos until they were engulfed in darkness. The Shadows made quick work of them but allowed her to hear their horrified screams and to smell the penny-copper of their blood. What typical person would find comfort in the vision of Sabrina, eyes glowing white and hovering in the air, ready to use her ramped up powers against her; only for the girl to find herself quickly pinned to the floor, Samara’s shadows swarming her like maggots in a festering wound? Like Hilda and Zelda before, Samara could hear her screams and pleas and scent rust and metal. 

What typical person would be pleased by any of that? Not a normal person. And Samara knew she wasn’t typical. The thought cementing in her head as she felt herself melt into the bed at the comfort her Shadows were bringing her.

Lucifer might have gifted her with the Shadows when she was still a fetus, but over time they had become hers. Nothing short of losing her powers could separate them from one another. Even then, Samara thinks her Shadows would still be with her, she just wouldn’t be able to sense them as easily.

“Well, this looks cozy.” Lucifer’s tone was teasing. Samara peeked one eye open at him. Through the darkness surrounding her she could see him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. 

“They were worried.” 

“I figured the sudden brightening of every room had something to do with you as most Shadows fled.” He walked towards the bed, her Shadows parting around him like hydrophobic sand in water. As he sat next to her, her Shadows dissipated, returning to the edges of the room. They trusted Lucifer to watch over her. Samara sent a pulse of gratitude their way, content filling her as she felt Lucifer do the same. 

“The past few weeks have been filled with change and unease. They’re tense, upset.” Samara remained laying back as she spoke, her eyes flitting around the room as she watched her Shadows dance. Her gaze snapped up to Lucifer as he brushed a strand of hair back, his hand cradling the side of her head. 

“I dare say that they are not the only ones upset. Much has happened to you so recently. A time I planned to have filled with joy and admiration has since been muddled with betrayal and sorrow. I hope you can one day forgive me, my flower.” His voice was soft, his eyes even softer. Samara would bet that few had ever witnessed the Dark Lord be so gentle; even fewer hear him ask for forgiveness. She reached a hand up, her thumb stroking his defined cheekbone, her finger trailing to trace his ear.

“There’s nothing to forgive. The only ones in charge of their actions are the people in question themselves. My hurt will pass in time. That still doesn’t negate from the content and happiness I feel that I’m here. With you.” Samara smiled as his eyes slipped closed as she continued to trace delicate patterns onto his skin. 

“We must work on your overwhelming mercifulness, My Queen. But not towards me. Never towards me. I intend to take every bit of your mercy for myself. Let the rest fend for themselves.” He hummed, slowly leaning down towards her. His hand slipped down and below, cupping her neck. He gently raised her by his hold, bringing her up towards him. Just as she felt his breath tickle her lips, a knock rattled the door. Fire licked inside her at the displeased growl that rumbled his chest.

“Your Majesty? They’re ready for you.” A timid voice spoke from outside. 

Samara grinned at the heavy sigh that escaped the man holding her. Darting up she pressed a quick peck to his lips, dancing up and away before he could catch her. His narrowed eyes caused a giggle to escape her. She took in his form as he stood, her eyes roving up and down. A snap from his fingers and she felt her hair and dress smooth out. 

She was running a hand down the front of her dress, her eyes following it’s path, double checking that there were no wrinkles when she felt his hand grasp the back of her neck. He pulled her forward by his hold, forcing her head to tilt up. Her core clenched at the fire flickering in his gaze. Once again he leaned down, but this time it was to speak nearly against her lips.

“Soon, My Samara; you will not be able to escape my grasp so easily, nor will you want to.” Despite the heat flaring in his words, the kiss he pressed to her lips was soft and gentle. She began to press back, her body stepping towards him but his fingers tightened the grip he had, forcing her to stay still. Disappointment flooded through her as he pulled back.

“Come. We have a crown to place on your head.” He released her neck and extended his hand towards her. She released a soft huff before setting her hand in his.

  
  


Unlike before, the guests of this coronation were unmasqued. Samara took in every demon she could see, their odd features all prominent. Also unlike before, there were many many more people.

Samara stayed at Lucifer’s side as he led them through the throne room. The demons and other beings parted a path for them, bowing and curtsying as they passed. She could feel the thrum of anticipation and unholy glee in the air. Samara could only guess why the crowd was so pleased. Perhaps they had never expected their King to take a Queen. She wondered how they would take to her Ruling.

He was quick to lead them up the stairs to where the thrones sat.  _ Their _ thrones. Near identical to the ones that had been at the Academy. The only difference being these two seemed larger, more menacing. Power seemed to radiate from them like a heady cloud. Maybe the thrones themselves weren’t radiating the power though. Perhaps it was just the lingering of Lucifer’s own powers saturating a place he spent much time in.

Samara hardly noticed as the crowd’s quiet murmurings silenced. She did, however, feel their eyes devour her as Lucifer helped seat her in the more curved throne. As he did earlier that night, his thumb swept across her knuckles as she sat down. She made sure to send a grateful smile his way before he parted from her. This time her crown was held by a mouthless demon. Curiosity quirked inside her. Why did this demon have no mouth? She’d noticed that most of the demons in positions of servitude were much like that one; mouths, eyes, noses, ears were all missing in different variations. She’d make sure someone explained it to her.

Her thoughts were paused as Lucifer stood before her again, the golden glinting crown secure in his hands. Her eyes slipped closed as the warm metal was placed on her head once again. Just like earlier that night, the feeling of  _ right, mine, power _ echoed through her.

Unhesitantly Samara slid her hand into the one Lucifer had extended towards her, helping her rise once again. Still, the congregation beneath them remained silent. There was a heaviness to the air this time that wasn’t there before. At the front of the crowd below, stood three demons more lavishly dressed than the rest. She could only assume they were the Kings of Hell. Their presence was a necessity to her coronation Lucifer had explained. They would make sure her status was upheld and spread in Hell.

“My loathsome subjects, I gather you here today to celebrate the crowning of a new Ruler. I present to thee, Samara Spellman. Proud lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows, and Queen of Hell! Hail Samara!” Lucifer’s voice echoed through the silent hall. She could feel his power pulsing from him, a cloak-like feeling settling around her. 

“Hail Samara! Hail Satan!” The congregation below crowed. While the glamoured crowd earlier in the night had chanted the same words, the group chanting now held jubilation and anticipation in their words. Samara felt any unease that had been settled on her shoulders evaporate. No doubt she’d still have a few hiccups from some demons and others testing her boundaries but it was nice to know that there were no immediate protests.

“And now, we shall dance to the Mephisto Waltz, as Queen and King.” The music that started up was similar to what had played during their dance earlier. It was heavier this time, darker, more resolute. Samara’s hand was held tightly in Lucifer’s as they quickly descended the stairs. The crowd parted for them once again, this time leaving the center of the room clear. 

It was as easy as breathing, assuming the positions they’d held before. Her waist cradled in his grasp, her hand resting on his chest, his hand leading them through the steps. The air between them crackled, not just from the  _ want _ that seemed to flare any time they were together, but from an intimacy. Samara could tell from Lucifer’s gaze that their dance was different this time. The steps and tune might all be the same but the magick and power surrounding them now was different. It continued to build with each step they took, blaze increasing with every spin she made.

“You can feel it too.” His voice was a whisper, nearly as soft as his gaze. Samara’s eyes couldn’t break away, nor did she want to. The fingers on his chest drummed gently as she hummed in assent. “This is how it should have gone. Our subjects in awe as our powers grow and meld. All watching as their Queen came to be.”

Now that he’d said it she could pinpoint what was going on. Before, she had been able to feel the difference but not exactly what it was. Now, she could tell. Lucifer’s power was vast, unending, all consuming. It was a seductive darkness that crooned and devoured. She’d been able to feel that from the moment she’d met him. But now, she could feel it swirling around her, not just in protection as it had done earlier. Now she could feel her own power surge up to meet him. Swirling and dipping and twisting and turning. Where one went the other followed. To take and taste and touch and have. It continued as their dance did. Until she could no longer tell where her power began and his ended. Until it all felt like one. Changed, the same, different and similar.

She felt drunk off the power that swirled around them. Her eyes raised from the delicate patch of skin exposed at the base of his throat that she hadn’t realized she’d been eyeing. Lucifer’s eyes were glazed over, no doubt from the same heady surge that was rushing through her. 

No longer were either one of them consciously in charge of the steps they were taking. The dance was controlled by instinct and intuition. 

They twirled faster and more grandiose as the music reached a crescendo. Her body pressed closed to his, swirling out under his arm to be quickly tucked back in. Only to come to an abrupt halt as the last, echoing note reverberated through the room. 

Samara came back to herself. Her body dipped low to the floor, the ends of her curls brushing the marble. Her crown steady on her head. Her hand splayed on Lucifer’s neck, her other grasped tightly in his own. The small of her back held securely in his arm. His eyes sparkled in triumph and smug pleasure as he looked down at her. A smile broke through her lips. She was quick to crane her head up, his arm tightening and bringing her body the rest of the way to be flush against him, still dipped down.

Their lips clashed together, adrenaline coursing through her; their shared power smothering them. She bit his lips open, working her way inside. The taste of him, electricity and promise would haunt her to the end of her days. She’d never get enough. His hummed moan something she wanted to listen to for days on end.

It was easy to forget that they were surrounded by a crowd. It was too easy to just get lost in him. But Lucifer was a skilled man. And cruel she thought briefly as he pulled away from her. 

His eyes were near black with desire; not only from the power exchange but their heated kiss as well. He was a stronger person than she as he stepped away, releasing her from his hold. He bowed, to which she curtsied. As soon as their social decorum was finished, her hand was once again ensnared by his.

Immediately as soon as her hand met his once again, the crowd around them roared in cheer. Samara shared a grin with her King. He began helping her back up towards their thrones as the music started back up. Now was the time for their guests to enjoy themselves. After all Hell was a place for indulgence.

A servant was quick to offer her a glass of red wine as she was seated in her throne. She accepted it as she tilted her head, watching Lucifer sit regally upon his own throne. Still their hands remained intertwined on the arm rests.

“Now My Queen, all is as it should be. You upon your throne. Our subjects celebrating down below. Us side by side together.” Lucifer’s silky words met her ears. She hummed softly as she sipped her wine. 

“Perfect.” Even as she answered, her thoughts flashed images of her  _ family _ and their betrayal. Her mood threatened to sour but was diverted as Lucifer squeezed the hand he held.

“Do not let thoughts of earlier spoil Our night, my flower.” While his words held some demand in them, she could tell he only meant for the best. She shot a small smile at him, squeezing his hand back.

“Like I said earlier, it will take some time but it will fade. Besides, I plan on sitting here with you and enjoying our evening.” Her words rung with promise. A promise to herself to try to not let what happened earlier rain down on her mood. 

Feeling mounting anticipation and dark glee swirling within Lucifer, she shot him a questioning look. A grin was directed her way before he answered.

“Perhaps I have something that would lighten your thoughts once again.” His tone was suggestive. Samara chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Besides, what kind of King doesn’t gift His newly crowned Queen something the night of Her coronation?” He gestured one of the servants forward, whispering into his ear. The demon scurried off down the stairs. 

“Lucifer, I don’t have any gift for you though.” Samara worried her lip between her teeth, her brow creasing. The Dark Lord released her hand, reaching up to release her lip from its prison. He ran a soothing thumb along the abused flesh.

“Trust me when I say my gift from you will be watching what’s to come.” He whispered, a smirk pulling at his lips. Samara’s eyes narrowed at him in question.

Her attention was pulled towards the crowd below them once again as they became hushed. She saw as they watched two figures at the doors. The servant Lucifer had sent away was now back, tugging along another beside him. The second person was cloaked in ragged, ripped, sweaty attire with a black sack covering their head.

The servant guided his guest to the center of the room, kicking their legs and forcing them to kneel. Samara turned to look at Lucifer, who was leaning forward in his seat. With a kiss to her knuckles he stood, a tug from his hand having her join his side. He guided them to stand at the railing, resting their still entwined hands on the warm marble. Their guests silenced at the new position their King and Queen held. Which made it all the easier for Lucifer’s words to echo in the room.

“Now for tonight’s entertainment! I present unto My Queen, a gift, for her coronation. May it help make this night even more memorable.” His voice boomed around them. With a nod of his head, the servant ripped the black sack off the unknown person’s head. Samara felt herself freeze.

“Did I not promise you, My Queen? Did I not say that he’d be dealt with? I can think of no sweeter revenge than for you to take him in hand now. To do with him as you please. And when his physical body tires, his soul can go wherever you direct. To keep him as a plaything for your frustrations forever more.” 

Now she understood why he’d been feeling so giddy. She squeezed his hand gently before letting go. She trailed her finger along his back and she walked behind him, to descend the stairs. Her steps were slow and echoed with each click. She could feel the eyes of not only her King but their subjects as well as they tracked her every move. All too soon her journey was done, her feet carrying her to the trembling man knelt before her.

Faustus Blackwood stared up at her, terror and rage intermingling on his face. She could only imagine how he felt. Forced to kneel before a girl he’d once tried to molest. Kneeling before someone from a family he loathed. The knowledge alone, that she was now his Queen, must’ve been eating him up inside. 

Her memories began overtaking her again. Not so much the images of what once happened, but rather the emotions. The all consuming fear and sorrow she’d felt when he’d tried to take her in his office. The rage and loss she’d experienced when she’d learned Zelda was to marry him. How he’d taken so much from her. Her sense of security, her community, her family, her home! But Samara was many things, and thoughtlessly cruel was not one of them. She’d extended mercy to almost everything she’d known at least once. Perhaps that’d be how she’d Rule. Merciful to an extent, then she could let the cruelty that’d been buried down deep out to play.

With those thoughts in her head, Samara stared Blackwood in the eyes as she slightly bent at the waist to bring her face level with him. Still she could see the fear and anger swirling within him.

“I hold no fond feelings for you. In fact, I couldn’t care less if Witch-hunters came along and burnt your body to a crisp. However, I’ve been told I’m a merciful Queen so far. So. I’ll give you an ultimatum. Bow down, kiss my feet, beg for your life like the pathetic useless worm that you are, recognize me as your Queen and you’ll walk out of this room alive and well. I’ll assure it. Or do nothing, and I can’t promise for your well-being.” Her words were firm. She could feel the surprise that rang through her King. No doubt he’d expected her to fly into a rage as soon as she’d seen Blackwood. But she’d never been like that. No, Zelda had taught her to be rational. So here she was, being rational. An ultimatum. Ultimately, Blackwood’s fate was in his own hands. Which he chose swiftly.

She heard him before she felt it. Hot saliva trailed down her cheek, her eyes closed from the startling action. She heard the crowd around them gasp and curse, getting worked up. White hot rage pulsed behind her from Lucifer. She sent a soothing pulse back, not wanting him to interfere.

“I’ll die before I bow before any Spellman; much less the mutt they took in.” Blackwood bit out. Samara hummed as she delicately wiped the spit off her face with her hand. Using the soiled hand, she ran it over his face, wiping off the wetness before grasping his chin. Her sharp nails dug into the hollows of his cheeks.

“A mutt I may be. But you will die with the knowledge that I, Samara Spellman, am your Queen. In a position of power you could only dream to be in. And now, for eternity, you will suffer under my direction, my instruction and my will. So mote it be.” She snarled out, her nails causing drops of blood to appear on the skin they pierced before releasing him and stepping back.

Pleasure curled within her at the startled gasps and shouts she heard. Her Shadows had been creeping in closer and closer as she’d stood before Blackwood. Now, they gathered at the bottom of her dress, blurring it with darkness. Some climbed up her back, flaring out behind her in a mockery of wings. 

She took satisfaction as all colour drained from Blackwood’s face, his trembling increasing. 

She could feel the eagerness that swelled and swirled within her Shadows. It’d been so long since they’d been able to cause any real violence. And to have a subject that’d caused her fear and pain, they were all the more ready to pounce. They twisted and writhed around her, climbing up and leaping off her body, hurtling to the floor but not touching the man knelt before her. Not yet.

Tilting her head back, her eyes slipped closed. Samara could feel them pleading with her. Their thirst for blood and violence nearly overwhelming. Their whispers of safety and promise caressed her ears. A smile played on her lips. Inhaling deeply, she slowly breathed out as she once again looked at Blackwood. His utter terror caused a malicious grin to grow. 

All at once she grabbed the walls she’d held in her mind. The ones she built to help control her Shadows. To stop them from mindlessly causing violence. She gripped those walls, and proceeded to rip them to shreds. Directing all her ire towards the man before her, she made sure the only thing her Shadows would maim was the worm. And maim they did.

At feeling the gates she’d used to contain them vanish, there was a moment of utter stillness. All Shadows in the room stood still for a beat. This type of freedom was unusual to them. It caused an unnatural lull in its movement. Any warmth in the room was instantly sucked out, breath able to be seen in condensation clouds.

Then, they descended. To the guests it was impossible to see what was happening. But they could hear the agonized wails of a man in pain; a man in fear for his own life. Shortly after the screams started, the overwhelming scent of penny-copper emanated from the darkness at the center of the room. Hot crimson blood began splattering from the darkness, striking guests and marble alike. They might not have been able to see what was happening, but they could make a well-educated guess.

Samara, on the other hand, had no trouble seeing through her Shadows. She watched, as they dove from every corner and crevice of the room around her towards the kneeling worm. He wasn’t kneeling for very long. They lifted his body up, tossing him around like a tissue in the wind. Up was down, left was right, she could only imagine how disorienting it’d be. They’d lift him high then let him hurtle back towards the marble, smacking his flesh off the now cold floor. 

When they’d had their fun tossing him around, they began a new game. While her Shadows were often able to be walked through, untouchable; they could become physical if they wanted, as solid as a hand. Now, she watched as they morphed themselves into infinitesimally miniscule spikes. Then they began racing along the cloth and skin of Blackwood. Almost instantly blood welled up in their wake. Blackwood screeched and swung his arms. Attempting to fight off an attacker he’d never be able to touch. Millions upon millions of little spikes wrecked havoc upon his flesh causing an unidentifiable amount of lacerations. None of the wounds were especially deep though. Each cut placed to cause as much pain as possible. 

Samara felt irritation grow as his screams turned to curses and eventually begging. Sending a brief thought to her Shadows, she felt a smirk curl her lip as they were quick to comply. 

They pried his mouth open, his words slurring. They worked in tandem. Some to keep him still. Some to keep him facing her. Some to hold out his tongue. And finally, some to rip out the squirming appendage. His screams turned to shrieks. But no words left his lips, she noted, pleased.

Finally, her Shadows moved on to their last act. With blood covering the outside of the man, they wanted to see the rest inside. Quickly her Shadows entered whatever orifice they could find. They smothered themselves inside the body that’d caused her so much trouble. They kept going and going and going and going. All too soon or maybe not soon enough, they began razing. No part inside the man was left uscathed. They rampaged around inside his body, slicing, burning, ripping and tearing anything they could. Samara watched as they ripped around inside and then tore themselves out. Only to enter from the new hole to do it all over again.

His screams finally stopped but not before she could meet his eyes. She connected with his tear and terror filled eyes. She could tell he was begging her to get them to stop. Her only response was a quirked brow. She’d given him a choice and he’d made one.

Eventually her Shadows retreated, going to the corners they came from. Some nudged her back, stopping the puddle of ever-growing blood from reaching and staining her feet. She looked down at the still husk before her, apathy overtaking her features. Silence reigned around her. Shock present in all of their auras. She could even feel the shock Lucifer held. He didn’t expect her Shadows to cause damage like that. A chuckle threatened to escape her. However it was halted as she caught movement below her.

Blackwood’s soul crawled from his mangled corpse. With a snap of her fingers a collector was at her side. 

“Take him away for now. I’ll let you know what I want done with him at a later date.” Her tone was short as she gestured below. The collector was quick to drag the soul out by his hair. Blackwood was still reeling from the remnants of what had happened, and therefore didn’t feel the further abuse.

Samara hummed before turning around and facing her King. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye as he stared down at her from the railing. She sent a pulse of satisfaction, gratefulness and finality towards him. Sure, it was a lot to send at once but her King was smart, he’d figure it out. She was finished for the night. She was ready to return to their chambers.

She watched as he quickly descended the stairs, joining her at her side. He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on her skin. His eyes belied the raging want swirling within him. 

“Let this be an acknowledgment from you all. Your new Queen may seem merciful. But rest assured Her cruelty can know no bounds.” He bellowed, not that their guests had even whispered anything, silence still reigning around them. “We thank you for joining us for tonight’s events. Please, enjoy the festivities but your Queen and I will be retiring for the night.” 

With her hand held in his, he escorted the both of them out of the room, passed the bowing and kneeling guests. Neither spoke a word to the other as he led her towards their room. But the air between sparked with words unsaid and lingering intimacy. 

Perhaps in another world Lucifer would’ve ushered her into their room and crowded her up against the door. Ravishing her there. And perhaps in another world she would’ve greatly welcomed it. But that didn’t happen in this one. Instead, he guided her into their room. She could feel that he wanted her. He wanted to do what she’d imagined, but he didn’t. While he might’ve been aroused and heady with desire, she wasn’t. She’d just watched a man she’d loathed be tortured to death. There was no way in Heaven she’d be able to feel desire tonight.

Instead, he gathered her into the lavish bathroom from earlier. With a snap of his fingers the oversized tub was filled with steaming water and amaryllis petals. He’d also divested the both of them of their clothes, she noted.

He entered the tub first, leaning back against the side with his long legs stretched out. He held a hand out to her. She could see the desire in his eyes as he visually devoured her bare body, but she could see his restraint too. For that she was glad. 

She was quickly settled resting back against him. He stroked a wet hand through her hair, a soothing hum building in his chest. She ran gentle fingers down his thighs that were bracketing her body. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, not wanting to break the intimate atmosphere around them. 

“I did make a promise to you. It was magnificent, by the way. Your wrath.” He rumbled, his chest vibrating along her back. She hummed and leaned her head back against his chest.

“Mmm. Hopefully you’ll never be on the receiving end of it. You don’t think it was too much?” She tilted her head to the side to peer up and back at him. He fixed his eyes onto hers.

“It was a sight they needed to see. No doubt they’d have thought you weak. A meer witch. Had they not seen your display. Now, they’ll be much more inclined to listen to you.” He explained, reaching up to brush some hair out of her face. She hummed once again, settling back against her King. If this was her first day as Queen, she was interested to see what the rest held for her.

  
  


Waking in the arms of her King was a new experience. One that she was looking forward to repeating for all of eternity. What was strange was not seeing the sun rise. She knew that there was sun in areas of Hell. But here in Pandemonium there was no sunlight. A part of her was eager to explore Hell and see what this realm had to offer.

The arms that encased her waist briefly tightened, pulling her forward and flush against the bare chest she rested on. A low hum met her ears as she tilted her head up.

“My Queen.” His words were laced with content and possessiveness. She ran a hand up his bare flank to rest on his pectoral beside her face, fingers stroking the skin there.

“My King.” She whispered the words. Hearing him inhale deeply, an overwhelming sense of fondness squeezed inside her chest. Lucifer, while not a good man, was good to her. She looked forward to what forever held for them. She turned her head to press soft kisses to the bare skin before her. 

Feeling his hand trail up along her bare back, she shivered as she realized they were both still unclothed. She’d fallen asleep during their soak and Lucifer had deemed it unnecessary to clothe either one of them as he put them to bed apparently. 

His hand was quick to clasp the back of her neck and drag her up his body. His free hand continued to stroke meaningless patterns along the expanse of her back, minute trembles of her skin followed his fingers. 

Now that she was closer, she could see the blatant hunger that shone in his eyes. With a small grin, she craned herself the rest of the way forward. Their lips met in a series of searing, wanting caresses. She trailed her hands up his body until they rested on his shoulders. Their kiss quickly careened into more heated territory. Teeth catching flesh, battling to see who would yield first. 

Samara hummed before she began moving. Never parting her lips from her King’s, she braced her hands against his shoulders and quickly straddled her legs along his torso. His hand that had been running along her back ran down to grip the outside of her thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh. A soft sound escaped her, her lips finally parting from him for a moment. Their harsh breathing filling the room. 

Before Lucifer could do anything, Samara’s head ducked down. Now trailing soft, heated kisses starting from the corner of his lips across his jaw to down along his neck. She felt as both his hands now gripped her thighs, moans rumbling in his chest. Absently she recognized as his hands began crawling up towards her waist. She was still too busy pressing her lips to his exposed skin. Now at the hollow of his throat, a wicked thought crossed her mind. Quick as a flash her sharp teeth snagged the delicate skin and bit down. She heard his tortured groan before the world flipped.

Feeling the bedsheets and pillows at her back now, she blinked up at Lucifer. He now hovered over her, her legs now wrapped around his torso, his one hand gripping her waist, the other hand pinning her shoulder down. She grinned up at him, licking away the taste of blood on her lips. She watched in delight as crimson trickled down from his throat.

“Naughty little Queen. Perhaps a vampire has come and replaced my darling witch.” He rumbled, leaning down and silencing the giggles that were escaping her. She raised her arms and twined them around the back of his neck. 

In the blink of an eye her arms were wrenched away, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. She narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned back once again.

“Ah ah, naughty Queens don’t get to touch. Keep your hands there for me, will you my flower.” He demanded, a smirk curling his lips as she pouted. She huffed but nodded her head.

He went to work quickly. His hands trailed down her arms as he began moving back. His head leaning down to lavish her throat with scorching presses of his lips. His hands continued down, stopping as he gripped her waist. He raised his hands a bit, able to slowly swipe his thumbs along the delicate skin under her breasts. 

Her panting breath filled the room with sound as she clenched her hands into fists. He’d told her to keep her hands there, and dammit she was going to try.

Her back arched slightly as his mouth trailed lower, going along the flesh of her sternum down to the valley between her breasts. He pressed a final kiss there before as quick as a snake ensnared her one nipple in his unforgiving mouth. His hand palmed her free breast, stroking the skin and pinching the little bud. 

A sharp moan escaped her lips as he deliciously tortured her sensitive flesh. His sharp teeth lightly worried the hardened bud he had captured. Pulling back he admired the now darkly flushed skin, running a finger along it, flicking it as he went. Another moan left her as he ducked down again, this time to leave quick little nips at the sensitive underside of her breast. Her legs tightened around him, her hands twining in the pillows they rested on. She felt him chuckle along her skin.

“You are being a  _ very _ good girl, my sweet. And good girls get rewarded. Now, let me get my answer to a question I’ve had since we’ve met. Do you taste as good as you look?”

He abandoned his ministrations he’d held on her breasts. His hands lingering as he began kissing lower. Down the middle of her stomach before stopping just above her soaking core. He gripped her thighs once again in a bruising grip, his nose tucked along her neatly trimmed curls. 

Her eyes squeezed shut as she heard him inhale deeply, a flush racing down her body. Only to snap open at the guttural growl he released before he dove in. And really there was no other way to describe it as diving in. She’d barely had time to twitch before his arms were pinning down her hips and his mouth sealed on her core. His tongue traced a torturous pattern on her heated flesh, dipping in and tasting her arousal. Her hands flew to tangle in his hair, her back arching off the bed as his lips and tongue found her little button. She felt herself leak more arousal, her hips unconsciously trying to twist away from the onslaught he brought against her sensitive litte core. He was unrelenting, his arms tensing and pinning her, unallowing her a chance to escape. Her moans filled the room as she tugged at his hair, her thigh trembling. He pinned her down just as easily with one arm as he’d done both. He brought his free hand down to join him by his mouth. His fingers trailed along the slickened flesh, before finding where he wanted them to be and began slowly pushing in. She felt herself flutter along his thick finger, not feeling any discomfort until he began pressing in more fingers. She hummed and tugged at his hair, his tongue beginning another attack on her little button. With three of his fingers caressing hidden places inside of her, she felt as electricity began racing down her spine. Her moans grew in pitch and her back arched off the bed as he increased the intensity of his onslaught. White-hot pleasure erupted inside her, her core clenching around his fingers, more arousal leaking from her, her thighs squeezing around him. 

She collapsed back against the bed, gasping breath. She felt him pepper kisses along her thighs and lower belly. She ran an apologetic hand through his hair, no doubt her grip had gotten unreasonably tight.

“If feasting upon you was to be my only purpose for the rest of my days, I’d spend that time in ultimate bliss.” His words made her chuckle softly, stroking a hand down his chest. He looked beyond appetizing; skin flushed, his lips still wet from her arousal, hair a riot. 

“Who am I to stop you?” She teased, her feet resting against the bed but her legs still parted around his body. He shot her a wicked grin before climbing his knees closer. Their lower bodies nearer now. Anticipation shot through her as he palmed her hip, stroking the skin there. 

“Now, my little witch, let me have what I’ve dreamed of since I’ve seen you blossom into the young beauty you are. Let me have you.” He murmured, staring into her eyes. Samara felt her cheeks heat once again but nodded her assent. His pleased hum caused her to flush even further.

His free hand reached down to help guide his member to her core. He kept their eyes locked together as he began pressing in. Samara’s lip was captured between her teeth as he continued slowly. The feeling was unusual, of being filled and stretched. Some pain threatened to drain her arousal but a twitch of his hand and it was gone. She panted as he continued to press in. It felt neverending. Until finally he stopped. His hips flushed with hers. She felt stuffed to the seams. It was wonderful. 

Her head collapsed back onto the pillow, her eyes rolling up into her head as her lips parted to release another moan. Taking this as encouragement, Lucifer began pulling back, only to quickly glide forward once again. A punched-out moan ran from her lungs. She’d never felt like this before. Full and whole and pleasure coursing through her veins. 

She could feel as their power grew around them again, much like during their Waltz the night before. Sex magick was a powerful thing. But it was different than that. More than that. This was more than just their power mingling together and complementing one another. Now, it was merging to become one.

Her hand fluttered down, trembling, looking for his. Delighted she felt as he quickly grabbed hers, sensing how overwhelmed she felt. Both his hands clasped hers, his body rising and arching over hers, surrounding her. His lips pressed against hers, his hips starting up a punishing rhythm. He pressed her hands into the pillow on either side of her head, pulling his head back slightly. She took in gasping breaths as he continued on his quest of pounding her into the mattress. Her legs snaked up to wrap around his hips, craving the closeness of his body. She heard him huff before he released one of her hands to reach down and cradle her lower body, suspending that part in the air. Her now freed hand raked claws down his back. She heard him growl in satisfaction, his pace somehow increasing. 

“Please please please please.” Her whispered mantra began chanting. She heard him chuckle against her throat that he’d been laving his tongue along. 

His hand that had still been pinning hers to the pillows let go, running down until he managed to snake it under her back. Using his new hold he pulled her up as he sat back on his heels. Now seated in his lap, he used his hold on her to start a filthy grind of his hips. Her lips parted in pleasure, her eyes rolling up as this new position caused sparks to zip through her body. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his throat, panting in his intoxicating scent. 

She felt as his movements grew more frantic, faster. His breath now panting as he seeked his release. She shivered as he snuck a hand down, feeling where they were joined, until he found her little button. He set a merciless pace both with his hips and with his fingers. She felt as her spine began to tighten, the ball of pleasure in her belly growing and growing and growing. When she felt she couldn’t take anymore, she felt the same white-hot pleasure of before erupt inside of her. Her back arched and she strained into Lucifer, her cry of pleasure echoing in the room. She could hear him murmuring under his breath, it took effort to focus on his words. When she realized what he was saying her core clenched even tighter around him.  _ Mine, mine, mine _ they were whispers along her skin. He continued his onslaught, her body jerking from the overstimulation that wreaked havoc on her body. Finally she felt his movements stutter before a groan escaped his lungs, pinning her body still to his. 

Pulling her head back, she looked up into his eyes. An exhausted smile played along her lips before she ducked in and pressed a sweet thankful kiss against his lips. His hand reached up and brushed her hair back, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She giggled as he tipped them over onto their sides. He held her close, her head once again resting on his chest, listening to the thump of his heart. Her fingers stroked lightly at the skin of his chest. He played with her hair, starting at the roots to stroke through the tousled strands, down her back only to start again. 

“My first official decree as Queen is that you are required to do that to me everyday for the rest of eternity.” Her words caused a guffaw of laughter to shake his chest, her head bouncing with the movement. She grinned at his laughter. She looked up at his mirthful face, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, My Queen, while I may be a cruel King, I would never be so cruel as to deny you anything. Consider it written in brimstone.” He murmured as he stroked a finger along her cheekbone before tapping her nose. Her scrunching nose earned her another chuckle. 

“Is it always like that?” 

“For us, yes. Now, it’s time for naughty Queens to rise and ready. It’s your first day of Court. We have business to attend.” His words were punctuated with a sharp slap to her bottom. Her sharp yelp was more from surprise than actual pain. Still it spurred her up and out of the bed, but not before pressing another kiss to his lips. 

Her legs wobbled for a moment before blood rushed down to settle them. As she took slow steps towards the bathroom, she could feel an achiness from the activities they’d just partaken in. She could hear him chuckle behind her, causing her to throw him a sharp look which only increased his amusement. 

As she was in the bathroom, she cleaned herself up. A quick look in the mirror showed her the disarray her hair was in, as well as the darkening bruises that trailed down her throat. With a dismayed sigh, she waved her hand and a glamour covered them. Sure she could’ve healed them and made them disappear but what was the fun in that. Plus, it was a naughty little secret she could have, knowing that her King had claimed her and she had physical evidence.

Entering the bedroom once more, she noticed the golden dress laying across the bed. This one more sleek than the ballgown she’d worn last night. Turning to look at Lucifer, who was now dressed in another elegant grandiose golden jacket and pants combo, she gestured towards the dress. He approached her, his eyes slowly trailing along her body.

“As much as I hate to have your delectable body covered, it is nice to see you clothed in such appropriate attire.” With his words he grabbed her hand and spun her quickly towards the mirror, releasing her as she went.

Coming to a dizzying halt at the mirror she went to cast a dark look at Lucifer but was stopped as she realized he’d had the dress appear on her as she spun. Sniffing she turned to inspect herself and the dress. This dress, while more sleek, showed far more skin than the one the night before. The floor-length skirt was half sheer lace; and the sleeves fell from her shoulders, showing off much of her chest. It was more elegant than she’d originally thought. Especially paired with her hair now raising in some elaborate style with her crown resting regally around her head. 

“There, fit for a Queen I would say. I fear My Court will be more enamoured with your attention than they could ever cast towards me.” Lucifer’s hands settled on her hips behind, peering into her eyes in the mirror. She leaned back into his embrace, sighing.

“Then I shall endeavor to remain on my best behavior.” While her tone was joking, she still felt nerves race through her. Lucifer’s hands squeezed briefly.

“I can feel your uneasiness, My flower. Trust that I will not lead you astray. Learning all the ins and outs of Court will be easy for you. You’re a natural. Besides, with your little display last night, I won’t be surprised to see a few of mine own lay fealty at your feet.” He assured, turning her in his arms. She ran a hand up his chest, trailing a finger along the exposed skin of his lower throat. 

“I trust you.” Her words rang clear throughout the room. She could feel as his triumph and pride swirled around them. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead before stepping back and extending his arm.

“Then to Court we go.” At his urging she laid her hand within the crook of his elbow. He made quick work of the twisting hallways. Her head spun at all the turns they made as they went to the throne room.

Finally, they reached the open doors of the throne room. While the room itself looked similar to as it did the night before; now there were rows of seats lining the perimeter of the room, creating an aisle down the center. Each seat was filled with a person of some kind. Closer to the stairs sat the three demon Kings of Hell.

As Lucifer led them down the aisle and towards the stairs, all persons stood and bowed deeply, silence reigning over them. An occasional ‘Your Majestys’ would reach their ears, but was ultimately ignored. As she was led past the three demon Kings, they all three greeted her with a ‘Your Majesty’ and a bow. She inclined her head in acknowledgment before being led up the stairs. Lucifer stopped at the railing in front of their thrones. 

She looked out over the sea of neatly lined people as they stared up at her and Lucifer. There was a crowd beginning to form outside the door. No doubt demons and such coming to Court to have their problems fixed. 

Not even a month ago, she’d thought herself nothing but an orphan. With a family who loved her and a successful business she’d built from the ground. She had been content with it all. Now, she stood before a people, their Queen. With a handsome and menacing King at her side that cherished her. She’d experienced loss and betrayal at his side sure, but she’d never felt happier. Finally, she felt complete and that she’d found somewhere she belonged. She was exactly where she was meant to be. That she was sure of.

With those thoughts, she slid her hand down from the crook of his arm to settle it on his hand that was resting on the marble railing. She could see the corners of his lips start to curl from her periphery. 

“As this is your Queen’s first day of Court, we will be keeping it short. Court is now in session!” Lucifer’s words overtook the silence of the room. Their subjects still stood from their seats. As soon as Lucifer was done speaking, the people down below began chanting.

“Hail Samara! Hail Satan!” The words of the people rang around the room. Samara shot a quick pleased smile up at Lucifer as he turned them towards their thrones. Much like the night before, he helped her to her throne before sitting in his. He kept their hands interlaced over the arms of their thrones. 

She watched as someone from the doorway stumbled in, their hands fidgeting with each other as they walked down the aisle. One of the demon Kings rose to meet him. Samara released a pleased sigh, her sound causing Lucifer to raise her hand and press a kiss to the back of it. Meeting his curious gaze, Samara sent a pulse of content and happiness his way. To her pleasure, she was sent back his own wave of pride and happiness. Squeezing his hand she turned her attention back to their subjects below them. Content in the knowledge that yes, she was exactly where she was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINITE! Again, thank you for reading! And joining me on this crazy ride. It's been nice to jump back into fandom and fic writing. Let me know if you have any suggestions for future stories. Of course there will be a sequel, but it's going to be a hot minute before I work on that. I have some ideas for what I want it to be but we'll see. Either way, hope you've enjoyed!


End file.
